Moist Intercourse
by Redeeming Endeavor
Summary: A sexy love story, a fake love story, and a love story cut short. Brought to you by three different authors.
1. Chapter 1

**Author:** Let's make this quick.

I collaborated with two authors who won't be named. You'll probably be able to tell after reading everything, but for now, know that each chapter published today was written by a different author. You're welcome to guess the identities of my collaborators. Consider it your side quest.

Your main quest, of course, is to read these stories. Hopefully you'll be rewarded with some high-level equipment, but in the most likely scenario you'll probably just get a few minutes of entertainment. To spice things up for Valentine's Day, we all took on two challenges.

Author 1 had to include a lemon-lime (LOL) and write high-school-aged characters.

Author 2 had to write in a different setting where the characters like the "wrong person."

Author 3 had to write write a story with someone dying/dead and include a scene that doesn't end in a kiss.

These author notes, by the way, may or may not be mixed up.

So here's the first installment. A word of caution: there's a lemon-lime somewhere in this chapter. Tread carefully, adventurers.

* * *

**Of Cotton Shorts & Oversized Dress Shirts**

.**  
**_  
In which Kairi's attempts at trying to be sexy fail miserably._

.

"There is something seriously wrong with that boy."

This is the conclusion that Selphie Tilmitt comes to after her best friend explains yesterday's events to her with excruciating detail.

"Not even the slightest bit of tongue action?" Selphie asks disbelievingly.

"Nothing," Kairi Caelum replies. She slams her head onto her desk and groans. "Absolutely _nothing_. Just PG-13 level stuff."

Kairi's sister Naminé, who sits to her left, pats her shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, Kairi. Maybe he was just being respectful. Dad _is_ kind of intimidating. Sora wouldn't want to take any chances."

Selphie nearly falls out of her chair as she laughs at the blonde girl's naïveté. "Naminé, honey, when an eighteen-year-old boy learns that his girlfriend's parents are out of town, his first instinct will be to _pounce_. Parental respect, alongside resistance, is thrown out the window. I don't care how strong they are –they _will_ indulge in some teenage rebellion in the end. It's inevitable. Hormones are some crazy shit."

"Not for Sora," Kairi cuts in bitterly.

"Perhaps you came on a little too strong?" Olette, who sits to Kairi's right, suggests.

"I doubt it," Kairi mumbles into her sleeve. "I did nothing out of the ordinary. I may have looked at him expectantly a few times, but that's about it."

"Maybe that was all it took to frighten him," Xion says from behind Kairi. "Perhaps he was too overwhelmed and bailed." Kairi merely shrugs and slumps her shoulders in defeat.

Selphie suddenly snaps her fingers in realization. "If that's the case, then I have an idea." There is a hint of excitement in her bright green eyes, and the girls have come to learn that that is never good sign.

"If looking at him with bedroom eyes isn't doing it, then do something so grandiose that it will _make him_ look at _you_ expectantly. Elicit a dirty response from him by dressing naughtily," Selphie suggests, rather proudly she admits.

Kairi openly gapes at her best friend's suggestion. "That's crazy."

"Oh come _on_," Selphie groans. She starts pulling at Kairi's uniform. "Unbutton your shirt a little more, hike your skirt up a bit, and give him some _hands on learning_ after class."

All the girls shiver in disgust; minus Larxene, the senior playgirl, who eavesdrops and smirks in approval from the back of the class.

Selphie merely rolls her eyes at the girls' innocence. "Do you want to get laid or not?" The girls wince. How was Selphie able to execute such a sentence with such bluntness?

Suddenly, their friend Hayner, captain of the Struggle team, shows up behind her and winks at her suggestively. "Sure, I'd like to get laid."

"You wish," Selphie says while shoving him playfully. "So how about it, Kai?" Selphie asks once Hayner is out of earshot.

Kairi cheeks turn bright pink. She begins playing with her hair and twiddling her thumbs. "I-I mean… we've been together for awhile now a-and without a shadow of doubt I know he loves me, and I love him, so… after all we've been through, I don't see how we wouldn't be willing and ready for such an intimate act…"

Selphie scoffs. "So then it's obvious, isn't it? We're going through with this plan."

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea," Naminé cuts in. "We shouldn't force Sora into doing something he's clearly not ready for. This is something that has to happen naturally. Maybe he's old fashioned like that."

"Oh, boo hoo. We all know that he wouldn't deny Kairi anything, _especially_ sex," Selphie reasons. "If we do this, then I guarantee you that Sora's Vans will be up on the Tree by the end of this semester."

The Tree, one of Destiny Academy's most valued (and strangest) customs, was located in the center of the school, alongside a few other trees of less importance. In the center of the school lay a small, square-shaped garden encased in glass that was accessible from all sides. The Tree, positioned slightly to the left, was the only one covered in shoes –boys' shoes, to be exact. Unbeknownst to the school faculty, it was tradition amongst the male student body to throw their favourite pair of shoes on the Tree's branches when they scored a "home run"–and they aren't talking blitzball.

Kairi flushes at the implication.

"Kairi, you know you're _thirsty_," Selphie taunts. Kairi groans and brings her legs together; she was, indeed, thirsty.

"Oh, get up," Selphie demands tiredly. She pulls her best friend from her seat and begins to make adjustments to her school uniform that disobey the school policy. She pulls Kairi's ponytail loose to let her hair down, loosens her sky blue tie, unbuttons her white blouse to show some cleavage, pulls her sleeves up to her elbows, and hikes her skirt up a few inches. Because it is winter on Destiny Islands, the girls are required to wear black leggings due to the slightly colder weather, so Kairi decides that it isn't _too_ bad.

Olette, however, stares at Kairi in horror. She feels the urge to pull her skirt down past her knees. Naminé, merely shakes her head in dismay. She would never try such a manipulative thing on her boyfriend Roxas.

"Perfect," Selphie says as she steps back to examine her work.

The bell suddenly rings, and three boys rush in to take their seats before the teacher arrives. The first boy, Roxas Strife, takes the seat next to his girlfriend after quickly pecking her on the cheek. The second, Riku Kenbishi, takes the seat beside Xion. The last, Sora Kreiss, stops in front of his seat but does sit right away. Instead, he turns to his girlfriend, panting and wide-eyed. His chocolate brown hair is disheveled (more so than usual) and his uniform is slightly messier than usual from running. Kairi blushes under his gaze and stands still as he drinks in her appearance. The girls hold their breath.

Sora suddenly smiles, and his wide eyes soften. "Were you late today, too?" he asks sweetly.

He walks up to her and nonchalantly fixes every fault in her uniform. Selphie's jaw drops when Sora pulls Kairi's skirt back down to her knees. He didn't even show one sign of arousal; no double take, no spark, no stiffening, no _nothing_.

"There, all better," he says when he finishes rolling Kairi's sleeves back down to her wrists. He then takes the seat in front of his girlfriend and turns his attention to their teacher. Kairi turns to Selphie and gives her a "told you so" kind of look before sighing in defeat. Selphie crosses her arms and stands by her conclusion from before.

There is something seriously wrong with that boy.

* * *

The following week, Selphie forces Kairi to take things to the next level.

"_No_," Kairi says almost immediately. She continues to run her warm up laps on the track of the oval while watching her boyfriend's soccer practice on the field.

"_Yes_," Selphie insists, running beside her best friend with a devious smirk on her face.

"No," Kairi repeats sternly, forcing herself to run ahead of her delusional companion.

"Fine," Selphie huffs. Kairi's eyes widen as she begins to slow down.

This wasn't good.

Selphie wasn't the kind of girl to give up.

_Ever_.

"If you won't do anything," she says while pulling out a water bottle from the coolers on the sidelines. Kairi stops dead in her tracks and cowers in fear as her best friend removes the cap of the watery goodness.

"I will!" Selphie exclaims, purposefully spilling the contents of the bottle onto Kairi's tank top.

Kairi gasps as the water hits her like an ice-cold bullet. She looks down at her chest and squeaks in embarrassment. Her blue sports bra could be seen right through her—now—skin tight top. As the water continues to drip down to soak her shorts, the boys on the varsity soccer team begin wolf whistling in her direction. They all tease and nudge Sora, who merely pushes them away with all smiles and chuckles.

He approaches his girlfriend of four years with confident strides, and for a moment, Kairi sees something flash in his eyes, and her eyes grow wide, hopeful. He finally reaches her and wraps his arms around her waist while eyeing her chest intently. When she finally thinks he's going to say something, he suddenly lets her go and heads for the bleachers wordlessly. Confused and already slightly disappointed, Kairi watches him with raised eyebrows. He returns with his spare soccer jersey in hand.

"Here," he says, offering her the dry shirt. "We don't want you catching a cold now, do we?"

Behind her, Kairi can faintly hear the sound of Selphie slapping her forehead.

"Thanks," Kairi mutters. She accepts the jersey and puts it on, but she wears it with less pride and more irritation than she does during school games.

* * *

"You want me to _what_?"

"_Accidentally_ kick Sora in the shin and make sure he gets sent to the school infirmary."

"Are you _mental_?" Roxas asks with his jaw agape. "I am not about to trip my cousin just so he can get laid. Do you know how disrespectful that is? There is absolutely no sportsmanship in that, and that will be _so_ uncomfortable for him –unless Kairi's on top the whole time, of course. In that case, that's kind of hot."

"So you'll do it?" Selphie asks excitedly as she hands Roxas his second favourite pair of soccer cleats.

The blond haired boy merely chuckles as he double knots his shoelaces. "No thank you. I'd rather _not_ be responsible for injuring one of our star players."

Selphie narrows her eyes and crosses her pompom-filled arms. "You're going to do this whether you like it or not."

Roxas raises a challenging eyebrow in the head cheerleader's direction. "And what makes you say that?"

"Because if you don't, I'll tell everyone what you and little Naminé were up to in the hot tub of Tidus' party last month," Selphie threatens with a malicious smirk.

Roxas' eyes grow wide as he backs up into a locker. Blackmail? That was low.

"Y-you wouldn't," he declares unconvincingly.

The cheerleader gives him a look that has _"I would" _written all over it. Roxas gulps.

"B-but the other girls would never let her live it down!" he stammers.

"Oh, please. We all know Naminé isn't as innocent as she seems. It's always the quiet ones," Selphie reasons. "All the girls need are confirmation at this point, and all I need to do is show them your favourite pair of cleats on the Tree."

Roxas sighs and runs a hand through his spikes.

Five minutes into the first match, Sora is sent to the infirmary with a sprained ankle.

* * *

"I'm _so_ sorry, bro," Roxas says as he helps his cousin onto one of the hospital beds in the infirmary.

"Don't worry about it," Sora insists with a smile. "It was an accident. It's not like you did it on purpose."

Roxas laughs nervously. "Yeah. Course not."

A gentle knock on the door tells him that it's his cue to leave.

"W-well, I'll just be getting back to the game now," Roxas says, walking towards the door with haste.

"Good luck out there!" Sora exclaims. Roxas nods in acknowledgment before scurrying out the door.

In the hallway, he bumps into a familiar red-haired young lady carrying a tray of bandages and ice. He squeaks when he takes in her appearance.

His girlfriend's sister is dressed in a skintight baby pink dress that ends in the middle of her thighs and thigh-high stockings made with lace. The first few buttons at the top of her dress are unbuttoned, thus showing a _very_ generous amount of cleavage, and she wears a pair of red heels on her feet. A stethoscope hangs from her neck, and a small, baby pink hat with a red cross rests on her head.

Roxas gulps and pulls at his collar.

Kairi is dressed as a nurse, and she looks _good_.

All those years of swimming and volleyball have _clearly_ paid off.

"It's not too much, is it?" she asks, pulling at the hem nervously. "Selphie insisted it was all right."

Roxas tries to respond, but the only things that leave his mouth are awkward wheezes and pants. He continues to scurry away without another word, leaving Kairi alone in the hallway. She sighs and straightens herself in front of Sora's door. After taking deep, nervous breaths, she finds the will to turn the doorknob and enter.

Sora lays face up in the corner of the room, staring at the ceiling with a bored expression. When he hears the door open, he forces himself to sit up and nearly falls over at the sight of his girlfriend.

"Kairi," he squeaks. He clears his throat, straightens himself, and says her name with a calmer demeanor.

"Hey," she greets nonchalantly as if she didn't look like some seductive temptress. She sets the tray down next to him and bends down to reach for the bandages, giving her boyfriend a good view of her breasts.

Sora inhales sharply and turns away. "S-so… that's an interesting outfit."

"Mhm," Kairi hums, wrapping the bandages around his injured ankle.

"Funny, I didn't know you volunteered at the infirmary," Sora says while rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "You don't work on other patients wearing _that_, do you?"

"Of course not," Kairi says while fastening the bandages in place. "I only volunteered to help today because I heard my boyfriend was injured. I figured he needed some… _personal_ relief."

Sora's entire body stiffens at the suggestive way she whispers the last part of her sentence into his ear. She suddenly sits on his lap, and it takes all of Sora's will power to_ not rip that little pink dress off of her because fuck teenage hormones_.

As he places a hand on one of her thighs to hold her in place, one of her hands starts travelling up his chest in a slow, teasing manner. She stops at where his heart would be, pulls his collar down a little lower, and places the stethoscope in its rightful place.

"Your heart's beating very fast, Sora," she points out with a victorious smirk.

"Y-yeah," he agrees nervously. As she presses herself closer to him, Sora groans and wraps his arms around her waist. Just as Kairi thinks he's about to get something going, he swiftly switches their positions and sits her down on the bed. He lets go of her completely and begins to back away slowly.

"You know, I think I'm feeling a lot better now," he lies.

"B-but… we didn't even put ice on your ankle," Kairi points out.

"I think I'm good," he insists, limping towards the doorway.

"Sora, wait!" Kairi pleads as her boyfriend enters the hallway. When the door shuts, all she can hear are a few crashes and muffled curses.

* * *

Kairi is highly convinced that Selphie is dire need of psychiatric help when they meet up at the mall two weeks later.

"Okay, this is definitely too much," Kairi says when she goes over the plan that Selphie has cleverly formulated. "What if he actually gets arrested?"

"He won't," Selphie assures.

Kairi bites her lip. "How are you so sure?"

Selphie merely grins as she spins a pair of handcuffs around her index finger. "Because you, my dear Kairi, are going to be the cop that arrests him."

Fifteen minutes later, Selphie and Roxas find themselves hiding by the entrance of a well-known shop at the mall.

"So let me get this straight: while Hayner distracts Sora, I'm going to sneak something into his pocket, then Riku is going to come in and take Sora away, and once again, Kairi is going to try and fuck his brains out while wearing an extremely kinky costume?"

Selphie nods. "Sounds about right."

Roxas sighs as he puts on his latex gloves. "The things I do for love."

Five minutes later, Selphie gets a call from Hayner.

"Target is heading for the entrance," he says on the other line. Selpie slowly peers at the entrance from the wall she is hiding behind and nods in confirmation.

"Target acquired," she says. "Roxas, do your thing."

"Eat a dick," he says darkly before running into the store with magnificent stealth and speed.

Just as Sora is about to step outside of the shop, Hayner runs over to him and suggests that they go for lunch. As the Struggle captain distracts his friend, Roxas dramatically tumbles behind his cousin and takes a bracelet from the closest rack available. He sneakily drops the trinket into Sora's right pocket and watches as his cousin walks forward to his doom.

The censors by the entrance begin to beep, and the instant Sora realizes what's happening, Roxas springs forward and pulls a black ski mask over his cousin's head to make him look all the more sketchy. He and Hayner flee from the scene and find refuge amongst the shadows, leaving a very confused Sora by the entrance doors.

A tall, fit mall cop approaches Sora with his hands on his belt and an authoritative stomp to his walk. He reaches for Sora's pockets and retrieves the stolen bracelet. Sora's jaw drops in shock.

"Excuse me, sir. You're going to have to come with me," the cop says sternly. Sora's ears perk upward at the familiar sounding voice. He lifts the ski mask above his head to get a good look at the authoritative figure. He squints and raises his eyebrows in curiosity.

"Riku?" Sora asks. The young man removes his sunglasses and winks. Blue meets aquamarine, and in that moment, Sora decides that something sinister is definitely at play. He allows his best friend to lead him to wherever, because the more he follows through with whatever the hell this was, the sooner he would get it over with.

Sora, however, begins to panic when Riku leads him to the underground jail cells in the mall meant for temporary confinement. Was he actually going to be arrested?

At the bottom of the spiral staircase was a white room that contained two jail cells on each side and a work desk made of glass in the center. The computer chair behind the desk was facing the wall on the opposite side, concealing whoever was sitting there, waiting.

"Officer Caelum, we have a young man here with attempted theft," Riku announces. For a moment, Sora is impressed by his best friend's professionalism and ability to stay in character –that is, until he recalls the name that Riku had just used to address the person in the chair.

Officer Caelum.

_Oh_, _hell_, he immediately thinks. This wasn't going to be good.

"Oh?" a familiar feminine voice says from behind the large chair. As the chair begins to turn dramatically, Sora secretly hopes that it's Naminé sitting there, and that Riku was supposed to capture Roxas and not him –that it was all just a big misunderstanding.

Sure enough, it's his girlfriend in the chair, sprawled across it as if she were sitting on a couch with both her legs in the air. She's dressed in a tight navy blue dress with the zipper halfway down her chest, a thick black belt around her waist that accentuates her deadly curves, fishnet stockings, black high heeled boots, and a matching hat on her head. With an expectant smirk gracing her lips, she spins a pair of handcuffs around her index finger and winks at him.

"Someone's been a bad boy, hasn't he?" Kairi says with her eyes half-lidded and sultry. She gets up from the chair and walks towards her boyfriend slowly, teasingly. He tries not to notice the way her hips swing side to side seductively and sexily.

"Thank you, Officer Kenbishi. I'll take it from here," Kairi says, looking at Sora as if he were her prey. Just as Riku backs up to take his leave, Sora forcefully grabs his wrist.

"Leave and I will personally rip off your testicles," Sora threatens darkly.

Riku merely chuckles and pries Sora's hand off his effortlessly. "As much as the idea of a threesome _thrills_ me, I think this is something that you and Kairi need to experience on your own."

"Don't you _dare_," Sora growls.

Riku salutes him and begins walking up the steps of the staircase. "Sorry bro. Enjoy!"

Sora lets out a sob and hangs his head down in defeat. After taking a deep breath, he faces his girlfriend in hopes that they can calmly talk things out, only to have her slam her lips onto his. She deepens it almost immediately, and she kisses him with so much force that he has to wrap his arms around her waist to prevent himself from falling backward.

He stands there for a while, indulging himself in her kisses because _seriously, dat ensemble doe_, and is about to pull away when he feels his will power waning, but a faint clicking sound causes his heart to drop. When he tries to pull away to find out what exactly that sound was, he finds that he can't. In fact, he can't move his hands apart at all.

His eyes widen in terror as he shakes his wrists. The sound of jingling chains follows suit.

Sora gulps.

Kairi handcuffed his hands together.

"_Shit_," he curses, but before he can try to escape, Kairi jumps and wraps her legs around his waist without warning. Sora's immediate instinct is to push her up against a wall, but he doesn't do anything impulsive like _kiss her_ because _will power_.

"Kairi," he cries, putting his head against her shoulder. The fact that she is panting right next to his left ear is certainly _not_ helping.

"Hmm?" she says, playing with his hair.

"We're in a public place," he groans, slamming his head against the wall continuously.

"No one's around," she assures, massaging his scalp with her skilled, slender fingers. He moans in pleasure and raises his head to look her into her lust-filled eyes. "Don't do this."

"Do what?" she asks innocently. Sora growls as he grinds his hips into her once. She gasps in shock and throws her head back with a hiss.

"_Tempt_ me," he answers. Seeing that he was having a very hard time giving in, Kairi helps him by placing kisses on his neck strategically. She knew just where to hit to elicit a good response from him.

Surely enough, Sora inhales sharply and stiffens as she continues to tease him with her strategic little kisses.

"_Kairi_," he warns. His anger only turns her on even more. "No."

"Yes," she says as he forces him closer to her.

"Kairi, seriously, sto-"

The couple freezes upon hearing the sound of approaching footsteps. They look at each other with widened eyes and begin to panic. Sora carefully sets his girlfriend down with his hands still permanently cuffed behind her back and tries to find a place to hide to no avail. As the two hopelessly search for a place to seek refuge, the sounds coming from upstairs begin a lot clearer. There are plenty of footsteps, and plenty of familiar voices.

"I swear you are such an _idiot_. You had _one job_!"

"It wasn't my fault! It was calling my name!"

Was that… Selphie? And Hayner?

The couple's suspicions are confirmed when the two teenagers walk down the staircase with their hands cuffed behind their backs alongside Roxas and Riku. Two cops,_ real _cops, by the looks of it, walk behind them with disapproving looks on their faces.

Sora watches as their friends are ushered into an empty jail cell. "What the hell did you guys do?"

"_Hayner_ here stole a blu-ray disk." Roxas snarls.

"Of _Frozen_," Riku adds. "And for the last time, we don't want to build a fucking snowman."

Hayner huffs and crosses his arms. "Suit yourself!"

"And what are you two kids doing here?" A rather gruff police officer asks the couple. "You're not allowed to be down here without permission. Into the cell!"

"What, seriously?" Kairi asks. She squeaks as she and Sora are thrown inside to join their friends. The cell locks into place with a loud_ slam _and _click_.

Roxas groans in frustration as he runs his hands through his hair. "Great. Now we have to wait for someone to bail us out."

"Until then… orgy anyone?" Hayner suggests lightheartedly, raising his eyebrows in Kairi's direction in particular.

He is unable to dodge the numerous incoming slaps en route to his face.

* * *

During lunch at school the next day, Sora decides to discuss the current situation with the boys at their usual table in the cafeteria.

"Are any of the girls on the premises?" Sora asks while setting his tray down discreetly.

"None confirmed," Riku reports.

"Good," Sora says as he takes a deep, preparatory breath. "So is it just me, or is Kairi acting… strange?"

"If by strange you mean _hot_, then yes, she is acting kind of strange," Tidus, captain of the blitzball team, says as he takes a bite out of his sandwich.

"Yeah man, why haven't you tapped that yet?" Hayner asks. "In all seriousness, doesn't your right hand hate her right now?"

The Struggle captain narrowly dodges Sora's backhand.

"You know Sora, despite his unnecessary comments, Hayner is actually right," Pence, head photographer of the school's newspaper, points out knowingly. "It seems like Kairi wants to take your relationship to the next level."

"And the main question is this: why don't you?" Roxas asks –more like pleads, really. Heaven forbid if Selphie asked him to be part of yet another sexual conquest.

Sora rubs the back of his anxiously. "I-I don't know. Every time she comes on to me, it just doesn't feel like the right time, you know? She's trying too hard. It should be effortless and natural in my opinion."

"Sora, this is precisely why you don't have your shoes on the Tree," Tidus snickers.

"Well excuse me, it's not like I see your Vans up there either, Tidus," Sora retorts. The blitzball captain's cheeks redden in embarrassment.

"Back off, guys," Riku says in his best friend's defense. Sora is about to thank him and sigh in relief until he jokes about something inappropriate. "Clearly he's just not man enough yet to lose his V-card."

"Hey!" Sora exclaims as the boys chuckle and clap each other on the back. "You know what this is? Peer pressure. I'm going to disregard your inappropriate comments and go about my business at my own pace. I do what I want."

Suddenly, a voice on the school's PA system catches everyone's attention in the cafeteria.

"_Sora Kreiss, please report to room 312. I repeat, Sora Kreiss, please report to room 312. You are in _big trouble_." _

After some familiar feminine giggles fade in the background, the speakers turn off once again, and everyone in the caf goes back to minding their own business.

"Well Sora, go on then," Riku says with a chuckle. "You're in _big trouble_. Room 312. It sounds urgent." The boys join in on Riku's obvious amusement.

Sora rolls his eyes and gets up simply because there was the slight chance that the announcement he just heard might have been legit. With his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his hands nonchalantly thrown into the pockets of his uniform pants, Sora makes his way to room 312 whilst whistling to himself tunelessly.

When he raps his knuckles against the wooden surface of the door, no one answers for the first fifteen seconds. Sora knocks a second time. Still nothing. Finally, Sora decides to turn the knob in case the door happened to be open the entire time, and much to his surprise, it is.

Room 312 is eerily silent when he enters. There is no teacher, not a student in sight. He walks forward to the center of the classroom to get a good look at the place. He is right: it is completely abandoned. The door behind him suddenly slams shut, and a sickening _click_ tells him that someone has locked him inside.

Sora turns to find that his suspicions are indeed correct, but he did not foresee his girlfriend standing before him with a meter stick in hand.

This time she is dressed in a thin, white blouse, a charcoal grey pencil skirt that ends slightly above her knees, black heels, and thick-rimmed glasses. In her other hand, she holds a red apple, and she slowly and sexily takes a bite out of it before tossing it aside.

"_Fuck_," Sora curses, already searching the room for an exit.

Kairi then slams the meter stick down on a nearby desk, causing Sora to flinch and cower in fear.

"Oh,_ Sora_," she says slowly, "you're so hot when you're scared."

"I am not scared," Sora declares. He begins to consider the window as a possible escape route.

"You are in _big trouble_," Kairi says as she plays with the end of the meter stick playfully.

"I-I heard," Sora stammers. Every time she takes one-step forward, he takes one back. "What exactly was it that I did wrong?"

"I heard you recently failed your Biology quiz on Anatomy," Kairi says, her heels clacking against the marble floor. "I was thinking that I could offer you some… _hands on_ _learning_."

Sora shivers as his back hits the window. He looks down at the ground, desperate to look at anything _but _his girlfriend, but Kairi places the meter stick right below his chin and lifts his head up so that he is forced to look at her.

"How does that sound, Sora? Would you like me to teach you a lesson?" she asks seductively. She grabs his tie and pulls him close so that his lips are mere inches from her deliciously red ones.

"I'm not really in the mood to… learn anything," Sora says nervously.

"Fine," Kairi says, releasing him. Sora blinks twice and attempts to process what just happened. Did Kairi just _give up_ and let go of him?

"If you don't want to learn," she says while setting the stick down, "you can just watch."

Sora's jaw drops as he watches his girlfriend unbutton her own shirt in a slow, teasing fashion. He feels a nosebleed coming on and his heart beats so loud that he can hear it hammering in his ears. He finds himself frozen in his tracks with his fist in his mouth, unable to move as he watches Kairi unclothe herself, until he _finally_ realizes what is actually happening and takes action.

Before Kairi can shrug off her blouse, Sora grabs her wrists and holds them in front of her with a pleading expression.

"Don't… don't do that," he says, voice shaking.

"You're right, it should be your job," Kairi says, forcing Sora's hands onto her perky breasts. He squeaks and pulls away as if his hands were on fire. He then begins to formulate his escape plan and rolls the windows up.

"Sora, what are you-"

Kairi does not get to finish her question, because by the time she says, "do", her boyfriend has already jumped off the roof.

* * *

On Valentine's Day (or Single Awareness Day/SAD, according to Hayner), Sora shows up on Kairi's doorstep with a box of chocolates, a bouquet of roses, and high hopes that she isn't wearing a bunny costume, a maid outfit, negligee, a shortass kimono, a _towel_, or something of the sort when she answers the door.

He rings the doorbell and rocks back and forth on his heels as he waits for a response.

When the door swings open, he is pleasantly surprised to find his girlfriend standing in front of him wearing a simple flannel shirt, cotton shorts, and an excited smile on her face. No stockings, no handcuffs, no meter sticks, no nothing; just her and her beautiful self.

"Hello," she greets, and the innocence is real.

"Hey," he says. He stands there for what seems like ages, drinking in her natural appearance until she clears her throat to get his attention.

"What's that in your hand?" his girlfriend asks, clearly pretending to be oblivious.

"Oh, they're just flowers and chocolate," Sora answers with a grin. "They're for your older brother, Axel. I've realized that it's just not working between us and that my true calling lies with him."

"Mhm, I'll be sure to pass that message onto him," Kairi says as she wraps her arms around his neck lovingly.

"That would be appreciated," Sora says as his free hand snakes around her waist. Without further ado, he pulls her to him and kisses her softly, their mouths melting into each other with ease. When he pulls away, he brings their foreheads together as a loving gesture. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Thank you. Happy V-day to you too," she says in return, and Sora can't help but feel that she holds a double meaning with her choice of words. "So," she continues, taking his free hand in hers, "What should we do today? I'm afraid Roxas and Naminé have claimed the living room, so I can't wreck you mercilessly in Brawl."

"That's quite all right," Sora admits with a chuckle. "I actually have something planned for us."

Kairi raises a surprised eyebrow in his direction. "Do you now?"

"Yes, and I would appreciate it if we left as soon as possible, milady," Sora finishes with a bow.

Kairi curtseys in response. "Okay, I'll be right out. Just let me put these flowers in a vase first." She proceeds in taking the bouquet of roses from her boyfriend and turning to walk back into the house, but right before she steps into the living, she turns back to look at him. "I don't need to change into anything better, right?"

"No!" Sora exclaims almost immediately. He catches Roxas and Naminé giggle from the couch. He clears his throat and rubs the back of his anxiously. "I-I mean, what you're wearing is fine."

Kairi looks almost unconvinced until she takes in her boyfriend's attire: an aqua blue golf shirt, dark jeans, and sneakers. She shrugs and heads upstairs to put away the flowers and chocolate. Five minutes later, Kairi runs downstairs looking exactly the same as she did before, but Sora has a strange feeling that _something_ has changed.

"Are you ready?" he asks, pushing himself off the doorframe. Kairi nods and waves goodbye to Roxas and Naminé before stepping outside.

"Have fun!" Roxas says, and he and his girlfriend share a few giggles before the door completely shuts.

"Well, they're totally going to do it," Sora concludes.

"Oh yeah," Kairi agrees. When she and Sora reach the sidewalk, their hands find each other effortlessly. "So where are we going?" Kairi asks, jumping up and down excitedly.

Sora smirks at her impatience. "You'll see."

Kairi throws her head back and groans. "But ba-"

"_You'll see_," he repeats, tapping her nose with a chuckle. She huffs and turns the other cheek. He laughs softly to himself before kissing her forehead. When she turns to look up at him with a smile, he is reminded that he is, quite possibly, the luckiest guy in the world.

After a two-minute walk, Kairi realizes that Sora is leading her to the pier. As he helps her into one of the canoes, she notices a picnic basket on one end. Her heart leaps in joy when she locks eyes with his. He sends her a wink and unties the rope that connects the boat to the pier.

"Roses, chocolate,_ and _a picnic on the beach?" Kairi asks when they're one fourth of the way to their play island. "That's so romantic, Sora. You didn't have to do that."

"Okay," he says, reversing the movement of the paddles. "I guess we can just turn back and-"He is silenced by his girlfriend's soft lips on his. He chuckles as he returns the sweet kiss. "That's what I thought," he says when she pulls away with a delighted sigh.

For the remainder of the trip, Kairi sits back and relaxes as her boyfriend offers to row the entire way. Her eyes travel from the setting sun, to the approaching island, to her boyfriend's serene face, and to the muscles on his arms that flex every time he pulls back. She blushes and bites her lip anxiously as she listens to each and every one of his uneven breaths.

Suddenly, the boat stops, and Kairi notices that Sora has placed the paddles in the canoe. She looks over her boyfriend and realizes that they are still a good distance away from the play island, but much further from the main island.

"I've always liked the sky at this time," he says, admiring the view of the setting sun and its reflection on the ocean water. "It's pretty, isn't it?" He looks at it with what almost seems like a childlike wonder in his eyes –something that Kairi has always loved about him, but for today, this look serves as a reminder that her goal is to make him a _man_.

So when he closes his eyes to bask in the warmth of the setting sun, Kairi decides to make her move.

"Okay, I think that's enough," Sora decides as he sits up. "I think we should go to the play island n –gah!" Sora nearly tips over the entire boat when he falls over in shock. In front of him is his girlfriend dressed in a tight fitting lacey tank top with her flannel shirt discarded in the middle of the canoe. He slaps his forehead and throws his head back.

He was such a fool. He should've known she would try something _under_ her clothes.

"Kairi," he whimpers when she forces herself on top of him. She straddles him and begins to trace little shapes on his abs with a giggle. He immediately grabs her wrist to stop her from going any lower. "Kairi, no."

"But Sora-"

"No," he says sternly.

"Augh, that is _it_," she growls, pushing herself off him. "What is your problem?" Kairi asks angrily.

"_My_ problem?" Sora asks incredulously. "What's yours?"

Kairi groans in frustration and rubs her temples in annoyance. "Maybe Naminé was right," she admits. "Maybe you really aren't ready for this, or maybe you don't find me _attractive_ enough to-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Sora pleads. "What are you talking about?"

"Can't you see, Sora?" his girlfriend asks, heartbroken. "I've been trying to get something going for the last few months, and all you've done is run or push me away. Selphie has forced me into_ ridiculous_ outfits, and you haven't been paying attention at all! Is it because you don't want me?" She suddenly slumps her shoulders and hugs her arms. "Was I not attractive enough for you?"

"Kairi," he says softly. He takes her hands in his and squeezes them tightly. "Don't you _ever_ think that I don't find you attractive."

"Then why?" she asks weakly. "Why did you purposely ignore my attempts to seduce you?" Sora resists the urge to laugh because she looks so _cute_ when she pouts like that.

"I didn't want to freak you out," he answers. Kairi looks up at him as if expecting an explanation. "All those outfits you wore…," he continues, "were fucking amazing. The things I wanted to do to you… you really _don't_ want to know." He blushes madly and turns away to look at the sunset water. "But truth be told, you didn't need to wear anything like that. I think you're the sexiest when you're comfortable. You were trying too hard, and I preferred something… effortless and natural for our first time. I wanted it to be… well, special, and not insanely kinky or rushed."

Kairi tucks some of her hair behind her ear and flashes Sora a nervous smile.

"So… you were ready to take our relationship to the next level?"

"I've been ready for a while now," Sora admits shamelessly. "I just didn't think you wanted the D so bad."

Kairi openly gapes at him as she slaps his arm playfully. He merely laughs and pulls her to his chest, hugging her tightly. He kisses her hair as a sign of relief and understanding and holds her in place as he whispers loving things into her ear.

"I promise that when I do make love to you, it will be because we're both comfortable with the situation," he says into her hair. "And that means _no_ meter sticks, because that shit was scary okay."

She giggles, takes in the scent that is just so naturally Sora, and looks up at him with loving eyes. He leans down and kisses her softly and slowly as if trying to memorize the feel of his soft lips moving against hers. He snakes an arm around her waist and places a hand on her cheek to pull her closer to him. In the middle of their make out session, Sora suddenly feels something wet hit his cheek. He pulls away with a short groan and looks up at the sky. It is a lot darker than he remembers.

Another drop of water hits his cheek. Kairi feels it, too.

Sora curses and hastily rows them to the shore of the play island. By the time he ties the boat in place, it is already pouring, so he and Kairi attempt to seek refuge somewhere on the island. With the picnic basket in one hand and a giggling Kairi slung over his shoulder, Sora makes a run for the cave.

When they arrive, it is dark, as expected.

Luckily, Sora finds some old tiki torches used for beach parties lying in the corner and lights them up using some matches in his trusty picnic basket. Although the lighting is dim, it is enough, and it makes the air slightly warmer.

Kairi, however, is still shivering due to her soaked clothing.

"Here," Sora says, throwing her one of his spare dress shirts from the picnic basket.

Kairi smiles warmly and brings the cottony material to her chest. "Aww. You were going to dress romantic for me?"

"Yes," Sora admits sheepishly, and before his girlfriend can tease him about it even more, he turns away and begs her to put the damn shirt on.

"Okay, I'm done changing now," Kairi says, and when he turns back around to look at her, his cheeks heat up within seconds. Her soaked flannel shirt and lacey tank top lay discarded by one of the torches, so she is dressed only in his dress shirt and her cotton shorts, although her shorts can barely be seen since his pastel blue shirt is far too big for her.

"Thank you," she says, kissing him on the cheek as a sign of appreciation.

"Y-you're welcome," he stammers, watching as his girlfriend walks towards the entrance with her phone in hand. He gulps and goes back to lighting more torches.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know it was going to rain today," Sora says guiltily. He tries not to stare at her backside as he strikes his next match.

"It's okay," Kairi says with her back still to him. "I'm just trying to call our friends to see if any of them can tell me how long this storm is going to last, or if they can come rescue us if need be." After five minutes of listening to unanswered rings, Kairi sighs hopelessly and looks at the entrance with dismay. They could well be stuck in there until nightfall if the storm continued to rage on at its current rate.

"Don't worry," Sora whispers, wrapping his arms around her from behind. He rests his chin on her shoulder as she snuggles into him lovingly.

Suddenly, Kairi's phone begins to ring.

"Naminé!" she exclaims, answering the call almost immediately. "Hey!"

_"Kairi!"_ comes her sister's distressed voice on the other line. _"Roxas told me that Sora was planning to take you to the play island today, and we just noticed that it's raining buckets outside. Are you two all right?"_

"Yeah, we're both fi-_ine_!" Kairi squeaks as Sora begins placing slow, hot kisses on her neck.

"_What was that?"_ Naminé asks.

"I said we're fine," Kairi sighs, unable to resist the urge to cock her head to the side to give her boyfriend more access to her succulent neck.

"Perfectly… and completely… fine…" Sora adds in between kisses.

"Sora, not now," Kairi whispers as she covers the speakers at the bottom of her phone.

"Why not?" he asks, smirking against her neck. "We're both comfortable, aren't we?"

"But I'm… on the phone…" she says, her knees growing weak.

"So end the call," Sora suggests with a chuckle. He gently nibbles on the tip of her ear and he can't help but laugh when Kairi drops her phone.

"_Kairi?"_ Naminé calls. _"Hello? Kairi?"_

"Dessert before dinner?" Kairi asks breathily and with a smile.

"Why not?" Sora asks as he turns her to face him. Kairi finds herself turning as red as her hair when she sees the look on her boyfriend's face. She didn't think someone as adorable as him had the capability to pull off such a sexy, boyish smirk.

He then captures her lips in a searing, hot kiss, but he keeps things gentle and slow as promised. He carefully forces her back against the wall, and the instant she hits it he grabs the back of both her legs and wraps them around his waist. Her moans echo throughout the cave as he places kisses down her neck again and subtly grinds his hips into hers. In the midst of their heavy breathing, Kairi pulls off Sora's golf shirt and runs her cold hands all over his well-toned muscles, causing her boyfriend to hiss in pleasure.

"_Kairi, hello? Is anyone there?"_

Sora then begins to undo the buttons of Kairi's dress shirt, and when he gets to the last one, he lets her back down on her feet and helps her shrug out of his oversized shirt. He suddenly—but tenderly—spins her again so that her back is to him, and he pushes his hips into her back so that she can hold the wall for support as he grinds against her from behind.

"You really don't know what you've been doing to me," he grunts into her ear. "You're such a little tease, Kairi." She merely throws her head back and moans in response. He is rewarded with a lovely gasp when his hands travel upward to graze her breasts.

He smirks and begins to place kisses up her spine, and when he gets to the clasp of her bra, he simply bites at the pink undergarment and smiles in satisfaction when it quickly slips off his girlfriend's shoulders and falls to the floor. Kairi gasps at the sudden cold that hits her bare chest, so Sora immediately covers her breasts with his hands, eliciting a long and wonderful moan from his girlfriend.

She throws her head back to rest it on his shoulder and wraps her arms around his head to get him to look at her. He faces her willingly and they share another passionate kiss before Kairi pulls away again to moan at the things he's doing to her breasts. She knew he was talented with his hands given all the years that he's played the guitar, but not _this_ talented.

"Unh, _Sora_," she cries, "Sora, Sora, _Sora_."

"Fuck, Kairi," he says, his pants feeling much tighter than before.

"_Kairi? What the hell is going on there?"_

Sora turns his girlfriend around once more and carries her over to the blanket that he had placed on the floor earlier. He carefully places her down on her back, and the instant she is comfortable, she flips them over so that she is on top.

Sora gasps at the sight before him, because he has never seen anything look so sexy in his entire life. The dim firelight has turned his girlfriend into some seductive temptress, but when she smiles down at his shocked expression, he sees the beautiful, innocent girl that he initially fell in love with and kisses her wrist as a loving gesture. She then smirks and begins tracing his abs, and he knows his temptress has returned.

She starts by kissing his lips and moving down to his jaw, and by the time she gets to his neck, she is noticeably grinding her hips against his. Sora grips her waist tightly and joins her steady rhythm, causing her to moan and throw her head back in pleasure. He inhales sharply to hold back a yell when he sees her bare chest heaving in front of him.

"Shit, Kairi, you are so fucking hot," he says, unable to bite back his words.

She chuckles and brings her lips to his ear. "You like that?"

"Fuck, _yes_," he groans.

He feels her smirk against his skin as she places kisses down, down, down past his neck, and down, down, down past his belly button. Her teeth graze the button of his jeans, and he resists the urge to cry out when Kairi unbuttons and zips his pants down with her teeth. He pulls her up and flips them over so that he is, once again, the dominant one, and looks into her eyes for certainty.

"You're sure about this?" he asks, the sincerity and innocence in his voice returning.

"Yes," Kairi answers, running her hands up and down his biceps.

Sora closes his eyes and brings his forehead down to hers. He focuses on the sound of the rain outside and her heavy breathing mixed with his.

"I love you," he then says, softly and lovingly.

"I love you, too," Kairi replies, and Sora wastes no time.

For the next few minutes, the two are nothing but a mess of tangled limbs and moans, but each touch, each kiss, and each thrust was magic. At the end of it all, Sora holds Kairi in his arms and hums to her as she lies on his bare chest. She can hear his heart beating, and it beats almost as fast as her own.

"Sora," she whispers, and he immediately gives her his undivided attention.

"Hmm?" he asks, playing with a strand of her hair. She sits up to look at him, and his heart swells. The glow on her face is unmistakable, even in the firelight.

"What are you thinking?" she asks, running her hand over his chest.

He sighs, looks up at the ceiling, and closes his eyes with a smile. "Just that… I'm 99.9% sure that this is the best day of my life."

"99.9?" Kairi asks with a teasing smile. "What would make it 100%?"

Sora suddenly flips them over and hovers over his girlfriend with a playful smirk. He traces her jaw line with his index finger and quickly pecks her lips. "If we did that again."

"Hmm," Kairi hums, playfully tapping her chin. She places her arms around her neck and pulls him closer to her. "I think that can be arranged."

"Wonderful," Sora whispers, and he positions himself for round two.

"_Hello? Kairi? HELLO?**"**_

* * *

The next day, Sora's yellow Vans are proudly thrown onto the Tree.

* * *

**Author: Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author: **Why, hello there.

Someone who may or may not be Redeeming Endeavor here. I am thrilled to announce that I'm opening for a three way collaboration between three creative and distinguishable authors that refuse to reveal their identities. Can you guess who wrote what? Let us know by kindly leaving a review, although it's about to become excruciatingly clear who I am after you read the following material. You will notice recurring elements in each one-shot, and you will

_**definitely**_** notice that I am about to step **_**way**_** out of my comfort zone for this.**

Oh, well. Fuck the system.

Without further ado, I present to you the second part of the Moist Intercourse collaboration!

* * *

**The Witch of Twilight  
**

She was the joy of my life, with eyes wide as saucers and inquisitive as any child, precocious as she was precious, and the spitting image of her mother, with fiery shade of mane and eyes bright and purple, but my smile she did share, brightening even the dreariest of days.

She was my one and only daughter.

I sat on this patch of grass, transfixed by her innocence, as she escaped imaginary fiends and saturated the air with such sweetness that all despair should evaporate before her tenor, and I seared the moment into memory. Children advanced much too quickly. She would soon mature, blossom, and depart, finding happiness in another, but until that time had arrived, I should treasure this present, a summer day at the park.

She caught my admiration and returned it childishly, tumbling into my lap and planting her tiny palms on mine, clutching at my sleeves, eyes brimming with curiosity. "Daddy, why is my name so?"

"Why do you ask, my love?"

"Marlene was named after her auntie, and Eiko was named after her Nana. I don't know anyone with my name." My fingers sifted through her hair, drawing out a melodious giggle. My heart swelled, for her delight was my own.

"But that's what makes you special." My answer contented her, but it was not a true explanation. I had to look back, deep in the recesses of my mind, to draw out a story long buried. Whether it was true or product of imagination, I could not recall with certainty, but it had protected itself well, and remained a truth in my heart.

Many years ago, I had arrived to Twilight Town a young man, free and independent, and eager to prove my worth not just to my family, but to the world. After a lengthy voyage at sea, I was met by a fine city with streets laid with brick and asphalt, crowded with tall buildings and smoking chimneys, and filled with furious activity and thunderous footfalls. In the distance was the famous clock tower, standing tall and proud in the orange sky. The sun hung low, fixed above the horizon, bathing the city in the warm hue of twilight.

I was an adventurous lad, driven more by lofty ambition than foresight. My head glowed with the grandiosity of building a new life, a reputation, and should I be so fortunate, a family of my own. Should success ring true, then the name Sora would resound throughout the world and all would know of my achievement. I still remember my first, boldest, and most foolish declaration upon arrival: "My life starts now."

Never mind my previous eighteen years since birth. I was young, stupid, and foolhardy, and in some ways, still the same today.

With nothing but a pocketful of change, I wandered into the street and flagged a carriage. I had reserved a room at a nearby inn; it was temporary until I could find permanent residence. I was determined to find occupation as quickly as possible. I could not rely on anyone else—only myself. The carriage driver tipped his hat as I climbed into the back.

During the ride, we passed by an impressive estate, a large mansion fenced by brick walls crawling with ivy. In the yard was an enormous oak tree, the base bestrewn by gnarled bark. Though it was not winter, the branches were bare. The driver explained that the mansion belonged to an esteemed family. It had been abandoned due to a vicious fire that scorched the inside pitch black. The interior was deemed irreparable and since then, it had become an empty landmark.

The architecture was grand, with constructions I had never seen before, and with features and columns befitting of medieval castles. I looked into the windows and blinked, wondering if I saw the fluttering of drapes or something more.

"If you look real closely, Mr. Sora, you might see the Witch of Twilight," the driver said.

"The Witch of Twilight?" I held great interest in legends and the like, and was somewhat of a scholar in the subject. Tales passed from one generation to the next were a significant part of culture, and one that made exploring the world a fruitful endeavour.

"Should any man lay eyes on her, they would fall madly in love. They said it was due to her unnatural powers. The wives, mothers, and daughters of Twilight Town became jealous with rage. They broke into the estate to drag her out where they tied her to the oak tree, the very same one you see in the yard, and burned her..." An ominous pause hung in the air. "Or so the legend goes. Even after death, her powers persisted, and her final parting gift set the mansion ablaze."

"A ghastly tale."

"Who knows if it actually happened, but I can't deny that something mysterious resides there. Always a bit of truth in every story, I'd say."

"Awful curious, I admit. I must confess I am fascinated by the fantastic."

The driver laughed boisterously. "Believe me, Twilight Town does not lack in strange tales. If all my customers shared your demeanour, my job would be a pleasure from start to finish. God bless you, man."

As the estate faded from view, I felt something stir inside, a longing of some sort. Perhaps I was feeling homesick or lonely. I was in a place with no friends or family; it was natural to feel anxious. The horses slowed to a trot until stopping at my destination, Dreamlight Inn.

"I hope you'll find your stay here most hospitable. Farewell, sir." The carriage drove off, the horses pounding their hooves against the pavement, their sound soon joining the hum of town where clattering boots, heels, and horseshoes heralded the coming of night. Evening, I later learned, was livelier than day. I checked into my room and the bed beckoned me forth, its plain covers and thick sheets exceptionally inviting. As soon as my cheek touched the pillow, fatigue sacked me at once.

In hindsight, I was not in the appropriate mind to establish myself. I treated the venture as a vacation rather than a relocation. I spent my first days a tourist, memorizing the ins and outs of the streets, exploring alleyways and tunnels, and scaling stairways and floors. It was so different from my hometown of Destiny Islands, especially the smell.

Unlike the ocean breeze at home, my nose immediately picked up industrial odors, of men and women and their perfumes, and of horses and other animals, all densely packed together. It took time to acclimate to, but as I walked by shops and restaurants with their delectable scents fluttering out, I soon learned to appreciate the variety and wondered what new smells would tickle my nostrils next.

The most novel feature of Twilight Town was the elevated railway. Destiny Islands didn't have trains; everybody traveled by boat or ferry. The first time a train rode past me, I was under it, and the ground quaked tremendously and the air was throttled by such tension I feared my soul might shake loose.

There were other differences, such as the distance between venues. Conveniences were in close proximity, and in some cases, adjoined. I was astonished that I could have my hair trimmed, my clothes tailored, and my stomach filled in the same stroll. In a city such as this, should opportunity not be brimming in every corner?

The answer, I found quickly, was "no." My amusement soon gave way to mounting desperation as repeated stays at the inn whittled my coffers. I was fast losing the means to sustain myself. I knocked on every door of every shop, business, and office I could find. Most were not hiring, some found me unqualified, and others called me a nuisance. I realized then that I was ill prepared for this journey. I had overestimated myself, and my confidence became as empty as my boasts. If this persisted, I would have to swallow my pride and beg my family for funds, a prospect most painful.

My evenings became indistinguishable, marked by a tired return to the inn after a day of unsuccessful lobbying. The orange of Twilight I once adored had become a depressing shade, putting me in dour spirits. To conserve funds, I reduced not only the quantity but the quality of my meals. I grew to despise the inn's rice stew in its unending blandness. I had gone through every set of clean clothes in my suitcase, and since hunger was more significant than laundry, I would soon appear a beggar.

It was on the last day of the week that I noticed the first good sign during my stay: Help Wanted. Ironically, it was on the storefront across from my inn. How it eluded me must've required extraordinary ignorance on my part, but I should not turn down opportunity once recognized. I sprinted across the street and was almost struck by a horse. I paid the incident no mind as I burst through the doorway. Breathless as I was, having avoided great peril, I peered over the counter and was restored immediately.

She was magnificent.

One glance was all it took to rob me of my breath and mental faculty. I had seen many a fair maiden, but never had I been so stunned and dazed. Her golden hair positively shined, and it was as if the entire room had dimmed save her, and she alone stood in the limelight, a revelation in this unsuspecting shop.

It was the first of many times I'd see her.

When her blue eyes fell upon mine, I was paralyzed and dumb. Try as I might, my throat could not produce a single sound resembling speech. That was when she smiled, and suddenly, everything fell into place, and I was able to resume function. I returned her greeting with a smile of my own and I felt something snap. My previous ill mood was vanquished in an instant.

"Good evening, I am Sora, and you are…?"

"Minding the shop," she answered. Her voice was just as wonderful as I imagined: angelic, graceful, and uplifting. My fatigue melted from her soothing tones. "How can I help you?"

"Help me? Help, yes, I require lots of help." I shook my head to clear the cobwebs that had laid siege over my mind. "I apologize, it's been a long day for me and I'm feeling a little—a little, what's the word?"

"Tired?"

"Yes." Her tease coloured me crimson. I knew speaking more would only embarrass me further, but I was, and still to this day, an utterly hopeless fool. "I noticed outside on the storefront, a sign…"

"Yes?" Though I stuttered and stammered, her patience was infinite. I gathered myself, thought over my next few words carefully, and spoke.

"Is the shop still hiring? I'm here to offer my assistance, should you require them."

"Oh, that's right." Her eyes lit up and so did my heart, a blaze erupting in my chest. There was something more at stake than just my finances. I didn't realize it at the time, but it must've been the phenomenon that many songs and poems have spoken of, an event so momentous, that all wished to grasp it, even for the briefest of moments. "What experience have you with art?"

"Art?" I finally observed the shop and realized that it sold artistic supplies: brushes, paints, easels, and canvases. "I can… appreciate a fine painting."

She giggled, the sound elevating me a few inches off the floor. "Oh dear, that wouldn't be very helpful should an aspiring artist walk in."

I cursed myself. I wanted to declare that art was my undying passion, that in my leisure, I did nothing but paint, paint, and paint some more, but I did not possess the fortitude to lie. I wondered if, perhaps, that was the primary reason that occupation eluded me. "I may not know very much of art, but I am eager to learn anything and everything should you hold the patience to tutor me. I promise that I am very quick on my feet—and on my mind."

"I should hope so. I must warn you that this shop is my pride and joy and I would not tolerate a single misstep." My previous dumb state returned with a vengeance, for the fear of failure, of not being able to live up to expectations, seized my heart. My face must've been very amusing because she belted out in laughter. "I am kidding. You are the first to answer my sign and I figure the last. You are hired." I mentally leapt for joy as she extended her hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

I rushed up to the counter and grabbed it. "Yes, very much so." Her hand was warm. I wished I could've held on for much longer—preferably forever. "When do I start?"

"How about now?"

This was where my grand ambition led me, to become a simple shopkeeper. Though not very prestigious, I enjoyed every moment immensely. Perhaps it was not the work, but the woman who employed me who granted me such pleasure. I quickly learned that her mind was just as beautiful as herself, if not, more so. When there were no customers, we engaged in idle chitchat and discussed many matters from art to life.

She lived where she laboured, on the second floor above the store. Though the shop windows displayed many pretty paintings, the real masterpiece stood behind the counter. Should customers walk in, she greeted them without fail and attended to them with the same patience she showed me.

"Have I told you the reason I love art?" she asked one day.

"I don't believe so, but I would love to know." I kept my eyes firmly on the task at hand. If I were to chance a glimpse, I feared for my productivity.

"I feel it's one of the few activities that can render reality." It was a puzzling statement.

"Can you elaborate? I don't quite understand…"

"Think of all the things unseen, thoughts and feelings, hatred, sadness, and love. How do we know these things exist? Art, it's what makes it real. You look at a painting and you feel something inside, an emotion, it draws out the things you didn't know existed, and it makes it real. It's no longer fantasy, not just in the imagination or an idea, but tangible, observable, and touchable." She spoke with such passion that I felt inspired.

"You are amazing."

Her cheeks adopted a rosy shade of gratitude. "Any artist would tell you the same."

"But you're the first to tell me."

She chuckled amusedly. "What about you, Sora? Surely, you possess passions of your own?"

"None with your level of zeal, I'm afraid. I've dabbled in many activities growing up, but Father always admonished me for trying too many things and never following through." Many opportunities were wasted on me. I never found my proficiency, a difficult circumstance given my family's expectations.

"That's what you say but you've shown an admirable aptitude for shopkeeping."

"It is not the task that keeps me motivated but—" I looked up at her and she smiled curiously.

Lately, my mind was filled with her and only her, and I had taken up an old hobby: daydreaming. Not a day, hour, minute, or second would pass without fantasy of her and I in some romantic circumstance. I should've been content to be here with her, working together, but my dreams became more intense, desperate, and necessary. My heart was unfulfilled.

"But what?"

"Would you… have my company this evening?"

Her face showed confusion. "But we share company every evening."

"Not just in closing the shop, but in someplace…intimate."

She realized my request. "Do you mean a date?"

"When you put it like that, it sounds a little pathetic—but yes, that's what I mean, but if you do not wish to, then that is perfectly fine. Rather, forget I ever said anything. It'd be best that we keep our relationship strictly—"

"Yes."

"Ex—excuse me?"

"You are not excused, because my answer is yes. Will you take responsibility?" Either through great pity or curiosity, she had accepted. I was speechless and tried to think of the next step but my mind was empty. I was never good at planning ahead.

She laughed, the sound lifting my embarrassment, and recommended we visit a café around the corner. I could hardly contain my excitement, and it showed every time I dropped an item from the shelf. She would come over, exasperated, and I'd smile apologetically as she helped me restore things back to order. From the corner of my eye, however, I saw her fingers tremble.

As night drew darker, our shift mercifully ended, and I almost carried her to the shop. If she hadn't stopped me, I would've run past it. She must've delighted in my eagerness because her giggles honeyed the air. I resisted the urge to break out in song and dance but the temptation remained, as it always did when I was with her. We sat down at a table outside, underneath the balcony, lit by the soft glow of streetlights. We had ample view of the road, where life transpired endlessly in every breath and every step.

When the waiter took our orders, I wondered if caffeine might not prove dangerous, for I was buoyed by natural chemicals of infatuation. She assured me it was perfectly fine and that my energy was refreshing. We then shared a slice of lemon cake that tasted all the more sweet in her company.

We conversed more deeply this time because the setting demanded it. I could feel something growing between us. I was overtaken by a curiosity that could not be sated no matter how much she talked. I wanted to know everything.

She had lived in Twilight Town all her life and loved it. Her words dripped with fondness and I drew from that enthusiasm, renewing my vigour for the city. Her love for Twilight Town mirrored my growing attachment to this place. I could not conceive of a more perfect evening. The night ended with great pleasure on both sides.

It was the first of many dates together.

Over the course of the week, we drew closer, not just physically, but in spirit, like two souls in joining. It was a mad descent into giddiness. I could not stop smiling and by the end of days, my cheeks were rendered sore and unfeeling.

The smell of paints and oils soon became a constant reminder of her, and it would cling to me, almost as if she was there when I slept. With each precious moment, I learned something new about her and myself.

She taught me the meaning of love—that was it—this feeling, it was unmistakably love. How else could I describe the joy and happiness I felt every time I saw her, or of the fear and worry in her absence? I wanted to be with her as much as possible, to shower her with every kind of affection, to touch her tenderly—her skin so smooth and white, her mind so sharp and imaginative—everything about her was art in the truest sense.

I was frightened, not of my feelings, but whether she felt the same. I would stress, pace in circles until we met again, and when we did, my heart calmed.

One afternoon, we were perched in the highest floor of the clock tower. The walls were made of glass, allowing ample sunlight to pour through, and specks of dust glittered in the air.

"This is my favourite place," she said. "When I'm feeling lost, I like to come up here and watch the city." She rested on the bench, eyes downward, her form folded like a statue. Her head was craned at the precise angle to display her slender neck. My eyes followed the line downwards to her bosom, and then down to her toes. From top to bottom, she was a gorgeous specimen.

"The view is delightful."

She turned to me with a knowing glint in her eyes. "I thought you might enjoy it."

I joined her and we gazed upon the city together, the streets flowing with pedestrians and carriages. They seemed so insignificant, as did my hopes and dreams when I first arrived. I was young and inexperienced, ignorant of the joys of life. It was not occupation, money, or reputation that granted happiness, it was feeling.

We reveled in the silence, allowing touch to convey our tender thoughts. As the sun dipped, the city lights flared like stars in the night. The buildings appeared small, like flimsy constructions out of paper. It was all so unreal, to be here with her, in this perfect moment. I was struck by a sudden and immeasurable sense of inadequacy. What had I done to deserve this? I had been blessed with more fortune than the entirety of my previous life.

"Why are you here?" I asked somberly.

"Sora, my dear…" I loved it when she said my name. To hear it uttered over and over made me feel alive. She embraced me. "I love the way you see the world as if it was land you must conquer. Life is an adventure for you. I love this town and could never bear to part from it, but with you, I don't have to. You bring the world to me."

She took my hand and kissed it gently, sending a web of tingles through my body. "You make me laugh with your stories, safe when you're around, and when you look at me like this—yes, just like that—I don't feel alone, but cherished, admired, and loved." She held my head, crystal blue boring into mine, to assure me that I was here, not anywhere else, but here with her, and that was all that mattered.

We kissed, but with more than our lips. Our souls, our minds, and our spirits touched, embraced, and danced. Though we sat still, I was sailing through the air into a whirlwind of happiness, joy, and relief. The only anchor of my existence was the moist sensation of her lips against mine. She drew away and I was returned by gravity.

It was the first of many kisses.

If there was any doubt, there was none now. I was madly in love with her. I could not explain why. I had arrived at the answer before knowing the question. I worked my way in reverse, finding the reasons behind my love—of which there were many. It was a foregone conclusion. I adored her zeal for life, her passion for art, and her kindness so encompassing that no stranger, ragged or not, could avoid her generosity.

Before, the mere sight of her had my heart fluttering in a million different directions, my palms slick with sweat, and my legs numb with excitement, but she had become a part of me, a foundation, and I was secure, and knew that she would stand by my side such as the sun would rise every morning and descend every night. She was my golden light.

She brought me to another of her favourite places, the train station. I had never ridden a train before. The platform swarmed with travelers shuffling in and out of the carts with many others waiting for their trains to arrive. I gripped her hand tightly, excitement bubbling in my chest.

"Come, Sora, before it's too late." She whisked me onto the train and through the aisles, filled with plush seating and comforts comparable to any carriage I'd ridden. She did not let me observe for long as she pulled me into a private room.

"Are we supposed to be here?"

"Hush, it'll be fine as long as we act the part." She pushed me down to my seat and occupied the one opposite. A newspaper sat on the window sill. "Now act like a gentleman."

"Impossible, madam."

She giggled but stopped at the sound of encroaching footsteps. "Soft, I hear the conductor approaching." We froze ourselves in model postures of aristocracy, myself with legs crossed and newspaper in hand, and she with a dainty nod and fluttering fingers. The room curtains parted.

"Sir and madam, if I may please see your tickets."

"My, the audacity of this conductor. We paid good money for this room expressly to avoid such harassment. Would we be here if our papers were not in order, sir?"

I followed her lead and nodded my head indignantly. "This is outrageous. I should lodge complaint against the company. Conductor, what is your name? I should make sure you would never work on another train again!"

His face was stricken with panic. "My apologies, sir and madam, I was just following proper procedure—"

"It should be plain and obvious that we belong here and that you—do not." She snubbed her nose stiffly. "Now leave us alone."

"Yes, right away." As soon as he cleared the room, we burst in mad fits of laughter.

"You'd make quite the lady."

"And you a lord." She got up and sidled next to me, her arms interlocked with mine. A loud horn blared, signaling departure, and the room shook as the engine roared, the wheels chugging and chugging. The view changed from the interior train station to the city, and the buildings sailed by like blinking silhouettes. The sound of the tracks faded, and I heard only our beating hearts.

"This is wonderful," I whispered.

Her fingers made strange patterns on my chest, circles and all manner of polygons. It tickled. "Do you like it, Sora?"

"I love it." I had seen the tracks run all over town, the trains snaking through the city effortlessly. I longed to ride one, but something prevented me. Perhaps it was loneliness, an obstacle plainly obliterated by the woman next to me. It was an exhilarating feeling speeding through the city like this. "Where I'm from, there aren't any trains."

"Tell me about it, your home, Destiny Islands."

"It's a great place but very different from here. There aren't many tall buildings and everything is much further apart. You could see the sky wherever you go, clear and dazzling, and bluer than the deepest oceans. The beaches are stunning, with golden sand that'll shine in the sunlight and water so clear and sparkling, you can see the bottom no matter how deep. But the best thing is the ocean scent. The air tastes salty, but that was how I knew that I was… home."

"Do you miss it?"

"A little."

"What about your friends and family? I bet you have another love waiting for your return," she teased.

I laughed. "I'm afraid there's no one like that. My friends are my friends and my family… I believe they're quite furious with me, especially my father. I was to inherit the family business, but not until I had experienced all that life had to offer first, so here I came to prove myself." I paused. "I wonder if I wasn't just running away…"

"You're not," she assured me. "Because you've found me."

"Yes I did, and I thank my lucky stars for it." I grabbed her hand and kissed it.

"Will you return home some day?"

I didn't want to answer because I knew that if I did, it wouldn't be what she wanted to hear—it wouldn't be what I wanted to hear. "I'll always be wherever you are."

"Then stay with me."

"What do you mean?"

"It must be a strain on your funds to stay at the inn every night. You can stay with me then."

"Where would I sleep?"

She captured my lips quickly and smiled. "Where do you think?"

When the train ride finished, we ran out of the station hand in hand, laughing like fiends. We were giddy and high, blood rushing to our heads and hearts. The streets became a blur as we barreled into many bystanders.

After quick apologies, we gained pace and sped our way to the little art shop across the inn. We stumbled up the stairs, fingers fumbling with our clothes, until we fell into bed together, breathless and naked. We drank in each other with our eyes, admiring every curve and muscle. Under tender touches, our bodies twitched and recoiled in pleasure. We consummated our love.

It was the first of many nights together.

Our bodies melded seamlessly and flowed in unison. We guided each other, making sense of our tangled limbs, mapping out peaks and summits to stake our irrefutable claims. I was hers and she was mine. To challenge this would be to challenge science. We were one, our molecules indistinguishable from the other. I was mended and made whole.

We were exhausted, layered in sweat, but deliriously happy. We went as far as our imaginations and endurance could take us, and it was only the knowledge that there would be many more nights to come that made us relent. We lay in bed, our hands intertwined, and our eyes locked, each of us sinking into infinity, and we drowned, breathing in the scent of our passion—our love. She moved my hand and placed it upon her bosom.

"Can you feel me?" I felt it, her beating heart, her body, her everything.

"I do."

"I love you, Sora."

"I love you too, darling, more than anything in this world."

The days that followed were pure bliss. It should be a sin to be this happy. She remained as she was, perfect and awesome, and would never allow me to admit fault. She loved me not in spite of my flaws but because of them. She made me invincible.

But there were times when I saw it; the cracks she thought hidden in her rare looks of melancholy. She would stare into the distance, morose and eyes moist, then she would recover with a smile and I would pretend not to see. It was small, but a single blemish on perfection was enough to root destruction.

The answer had arrived too soon.

I woke up and observed her by the bed, her delicate back facing me. Though she was beautiful, I sensed something wrong. "Darling?" She turned, showing a sad face. I sat up immediately and embraced her. "What is it?"

"This time together with you has been the happiest of my life, but I'm afraid it must come to an end." Fear gripped my heart as my body plunged into cold despair. I held her tightly, my shoulders trembling with dread. With great happiness was the risk that I might one day lose it. I never dared venture beyond the thought, but here I was, forced to confront the worst of outcomes.

"What do you speak of?"

"We do not belong together."

"You jest." I tightened my grip and would not let go. My fears had manifest and what was once a crack had widened into a chasm. "Tell me, love, what is it?"

"Forgive me; it was never my intention to deceive you."

"I shall not forgive what you have not done. There be no deception, only love, darling."

"That's not true."

"Don't you love me?" I asked desperately. "Isn't that enough?"

"Of course I love you, with all my heart and soul, but that is why we must separate."

"I don't—I don't understand."

She stroked my cheek tenderly, her eyes brimming with tears. "Everything that you feel about me, our time together, are products of a power I neither understand nor covet. This isn't real, Sora."

Deep inside, I had squelched the thought that everything was too perfect to be true. I paid no heed to the troubling signs, the gap in my days, how life flowed in stops with nothing in between. Happiness defied reality. I wanted only the moments that mattered. Everything else was unimportant. If this was a dream, then I would never wake up. To deny me this was to deny life itself.

"Then I shall remain under your spell forever. I am happy, happier than I've ever been. Don't take this away from me. I don't care—I don't care about anything except you."

"Softly, don't do this to yourself. You have friends and family who need you more than I. Though our love was born of fantasy, the way you feel is real. Your gentleness, your tenderness, and kindness are true. Your heart is bigger than you know. I cannot deprive the world of you, for there is a woman for whom you alone belong and she to you. I would only stand in the way."

My body became numb. Feelings that had filled me with such joy had turned to ice. "Nonsense, it can only be you." I held her face softly and her eyes told me everything. She loved me, she loved me so much that letting go was the only solution. And we wept together, our minds sinking into distress, our bodies in panic, with only love to anchor us in this final moment, where I could only say… "Goodbye."

"You'll understand someday, my love…"

I gripped her tightly but my hands sank into her body. I was shocked as illusion crumbled before me. The room disintegrated, and without warning, she dispersed in an explosion of light. I was engulfed, swallowed by sadness, and images of our time together swirled around, fragments of her and me at the café, the clock tower, the train station, her room, all fading into darkness from whence it came.

I opened my eyes.

A pretty face came into view, scrunched with worry. She slapped my cheek softly. "Are you awake now?" I could not answer as my vision distorted. "You're weeping."

With a handkerchief, she dabbed the corners of my eyes. "My name is Kairi. You've been sick for the last couple of days. I've been taking care of you since. I suppose it's my duty when you show up passed out on my doorstep like that." She smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

I found my voice, but it was low and hoarse. "Where am I?" I tried to sit up but I lacked the strength. She pressed me down gently.

"Calm down. You've just escaped a harsh fever. Allow your body to recover. This is Twilight Town. You came here days ago. Do you remember anything?"

I could not. The last that I could recall was an odd sensation, a warm one—and a cold one, mixed in the pit of my stomach. I felt incredibly exhausted. "Days? Why does it feel like—" An eternity?

"Hush. Just rest. You can tell me all about it later. For now, just sleep."

When I had woken up, I had no recollection of my days. My dreams were buried into my inaccessible subconscious. I learned that I had fallen ill during my search for occupation, and as she explained, I passed out on her doorstep.

This girl, Kairi, through no purpose other than kindness, had nursed me as I succumbed to feverish daydreams. The sickness had taken its toll and I was bedridden for days after regaining consciousness. I did not mind because she kept me company. She was beautiful and a pleasure to speak to. Though I lacked memory, she filled the emptiness quickly. Her care had touched me deeply, and I felt the faint stirrings of a feeling I'd only dreamed of: love.

Some unknown voice urged me on and despite doubts, I asked for her company in intimacy. From then on, we went from nurse and patient to something much more, from acquaintances to best friends, from couple to lovers, and from lovers to family. That was how I met the love of my life, my wife and soul mate, Kairi. We returned to Destiny Islands, newly wedded, and our daughter was born.

It was not an easy road. My family had their reservations, especially with "outsiders," but being with Kairi gave me the courage to inherit the family business. We tackled challenges head on and confidently. We were not always successful, but through thick and thin, high and low, we were always together.

I could never shake the feeling that I had help along the way. When times were most trying, a voice would call out to me with encouragement and support. When I was lost, inspiration would strike and guide me. Instinctively, I had learned to accept it—to welcome it, because it came not from a place of sinister origins, but of hope and sincerity. Even now, I feel the warmth of that presence.

"Daddy, you're crying." My daughter's beautiful face was marred with worry, and I felt sudden shame. I had no cause for sadness, only joy.

I assured her with a laugh. "Sorry, darling, I was thinking of something sad."

"Why do you think of sad things?"

"Sometimes, you have to feel sad to be happy." I tickled her sides, eliciting heavenly laughter. "Are you happy?"

"You're so silly, daddy."

"I know I am, but you still love me, don't you?" She giggled as she nodded. I spotted my wife, Kairi, in the distance rapidly approaching. "Run along now, mommy's here."

"Mommy, mommy!"

Kairi smiled lavishly upon her. "Hello, Naminé!"

Naminé. That was my daughter's name.

In Twilight Town, before Naminé was born, Kairi and I visited the mansion I had passed during that fateful carriage ride. It had been converted into a museum. It was just as vast inside as it appeared outside. We walked through the exhibits, remarking on the pretty paintings, but a single one stood out to me. It was a striking portrait of a lovely young girl, clad in white, alone in a big empty bedroom. The docent walked up to us with folded hands.

"I love this portrait," the guide told us. "It's called the 'Witch of Twilight,' and it was painted by one of the daughters of the Twilight family. She was a sickly one and lacked the strength to go outside, so she stayed indoors and nursed a wonderful talent for art. I always found this one to be…magical. I daresay it was her masterpiece." He pointed at the corner. "Here, you can see her signature: Naminé."

"That's a wonderful name," Kairi said. "Don't you think so?"

I nodded dumbly as forgotten images and feelings bubbled forth from the hidden depths of my soul: a nameless girl, an art shop, a train ride, and countless moments spent together. Was it dream or memory? I took a step closer and an immense sadness washed over me.

"Sora, are you okay?"

I wiped a stray lonely tear. "Sorry, it seems all I do is cry around you."

"That's only because you're a sentimental fool, but that's why I love you." She embraced me from behind and I cherished the warmth.

"I was thinking… Naminé. Should we ever have a daughter, let's name her that."

"You speak of children so easily! Let us enjoy this time first," she admonished.

We laughed then, but never did I expect my idle musing would come to pass.

From that day on, pieces and fragments would return to me. It was only when I held little Naminé in my arms did the memory complete. It was a story of my first love. I did not know whether it was real or fictitious. The places we visited were real; I knew because I took Kairi there, to the café, the clock tower, and the train station, as if led by her invisible hand.

Perhaps it was premonition and not flight of fancy that I had experienced. Regardless of its meaning, once recollected, I kept it locked within my soul where neither life nor death shall diminish it for as long as my spirit persisted. Without it, I might never have met Kairi or my daughter.

To her, I owe my unending gratitude. It was a debt repayable only by living each moment to the fullest, without glossing over harsh times, but to cherish our struggles, our difficulties, and our triumphs. That was what she taught me. And I would never forget that lesson for as long as I live.

Little Naminé went off to chase butterflies when Kairi settled beside me. "What are you thinking, Sora?"

That this was real, that every night, when I went to sleep, I knew that I would wake up beside my beautiful wife, to see my precious daughter and know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this was real. Happiness was never more present than the present. A cool sea breeze swept through the park and I could taste the salt in the wind. This was where I belonged. I kissed my darling wife, the latest of many kisses to come, and held her close, basking in the moment. I could ask for no greater joy than this.

"I was just thinking that today…is the greatest day of my life."

* * *

**Author:** Well, clearly the posting writer took several liberties with the author notes and jumbled them all up to help mask some identities. I hope they make sense in the end.

If you're wondering about the title, then blame one of the authors for demanding that we 1) use words that make people uncomfortable/gross sounding words and 2) have a title that has never been used before.

It's all shock value, really.

Some mandatory additions to this story: someone gets kissed, someone gets slapped, and some variation of the phrase "This is the best day of my life" must be used.

I hope this author note finds its appropriate place. I don't know why the person in charge has to make us look bad.

Thanks for reading. Take care, and I'll see you around!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author**: I want to make you cry.

* * *

**Last**

From what I've been told, my home in Twilight Town is a four-hour train ride from my university. I haven't gone back home in over a year and a half, even going as far as staying here for holidays and summers to work and attend classes in order to make up for some lost ground. I took a semester off in the past. These days, I tell my friends and family that I'm just trying to catch up.

I took a semester off in the past because I couldn't handle losing the woman I loved. Her name was Naminé, and she was both the greatest and worst event of my life. Looking back at it now, it's as if I traded a lifetime of happiness for a few years of euphoria. I was swept up in her extraordinary existence, granted decades worth of happiness in the span of five years, and pulled into a whirlwind of first times and new experiences that helped me grow up faster than I probably should have.

Just about everything, however, comes to an end. Our relationship was no exception. The only unique thing about our ending was its abruptness: there were no fights, no arguments, or even proper goodbyes. Naminé died before we ever got close to breaking up.

Tomorrow would have been another one of our anniversaries. Our seventh. We would have been dating for a third of our lives at this point if she were still around.

I don't know why I felt the urge to visit home and relive these memories this particular year. I remember last year around this time when I wanted nothing more than to work and study and bury the past under demanding responsibilities.

Maybe it was a culmination of things. I found my old house keys, and with it my old key ring, when I cleaned my apartment last week. Kairi, a longtime friend of Naminé's and mine, also called to see how I was doing. And of course, I never successfully forgot the date that commemorated the beginning of my first and only relationship. All of these things—a matter of luck, chance, and memory—probably came together. Last night, I packed my bags for the weekend and called my parents to let them know I was coming.

I think she would have liked that I was taking this trip. I even feel good about it. I can't put my finger on the reason, but today I'm feeling more adventurous than usual.

"I've never taken the train before."

I hear her voice when I say that in my head. When we were dating, she conditioned me with that phrase. "I've never…" typically preceded the actual experience of whatever subject she spoke about. So I hear those words and I repeat them on the ride over to the train station. The mantra that begins in her voice slowly turns to mine until I can't hear her anymore.

For a spring day, the air is rather cold. I step out of the taxi and tighten my coat, thanking the driver for getting me here on time. With my backpack slung over my shoulder, I walk to the window and claim the ticket I reserved.

"Your name?"

"Roxas."

She looks annoyed. "Last name?"

I apologize and give her the rest of my information as she demands it. She hands me my ticket and sends me off, looking relieved that she doesn't have to deal with me anymore. My train arrives soon after I reach the platform, and I can't help but feel a little excited as soon as I step on.

My first train ride, at least at first glance, looks like it will be a comfortable one.

I easily find my place by a window and tuck my bag underneath the seat. A familiar feeling washes over me. I want to tell someone that this is the first time I've ever been on a train, that I'm finally doing something new for the first time in a year or so. I look around. The other passengers in this particular car seem unfazed, and the looks on their faces quell my enthusiasm. The force tugging at the corners of my lips disappears and I laugh. My chest tightens.

Naminé would've thought this was cool.

I remember why I avoided trying new things after she died. Moments like these make me miss her to the point where it's painful. But if there's an appropriate time to wish more than ever that Naminé was still alive, it'd be around our would-be anniversary.

The train begins to move. It speeds up, and I watch the landscape change outside as we head toward Twilight Town, a place that Naminé and I left behind.

* * *

I moved to Twilight Town when I was thirteen, leaving many friendships behind in favor of a classroom filled with people I didn't know. It had to be the worst possible time to move: being one year removed from high school, I was joining a class that had spent their entire middle school lives together with years of bonding and countless classes together under their belts.

I was the only new student of that eighth grade class. I was out of place the moment I arrived.

I sat in the back corner of the room, the closest seat to the door. The prettiest girl in the class, Kairi, sat in front of me. She seemed apprehensive every time we spoke, and I think it had a lot to do with the way the class scrutinized her every move. On my left was an empty desk. I went through the first two weeks of school without seeing the student who sat at that desk while simultaneously alienating the rest of the classroom.

The smart kids saw me as a threat to their current status quo. The sporty kids shunned me when I, with a freakish amount of luck, managed to score two goals on their prized goalkeeper, who led their team to a district championship, during gym class. The girls thought I was just another immature guy pining for Kairi like everyone else, and the boys thought I was weird because I told them I couldn't hang out because I had singing lessons and dance practice after school. I'm pretty sure they had assumed I meant ballet. They shunned me every day after.

I wasn't close enough to anyone to ask who sat in the empty desk next to mine. The question answered itself when I arrived at school at the beginning of the third week. Naminé was sitting at the desk next to mine, and people were talking to her like she'd been there all along.

I found her so intriguing, probably because I built up the mystery student idea in my head prior to that day. But she was just a normal student like everyone else. There wasn't anything particularly special about her. She was very quiet though. Friendly, but quiet. She wasn't one to initiate conversations, and the only person she regularly spoke to was Kairi. She didn't talk to me at all.

After a few more weeks, I quickly learned that Naminé often missed school due to illnesses. Nobody talked about it in class because they had grown so used to her absence. I asked Kairi about it one day, and she reluctantly told me that Naminé was particularly prone to sickness. It became more obvious every day: she'd miss a few days, sit during gym, and leave school early after looking weak for an entire day.

For a time, she was nothing more to me than the sick girl who sometimes showed up to class.

Then I spoke to her for the very first time. I volunteered to pass back graded homework assignments one day, and when I saw Naminé's, it caught my attention.

It was around Halloween at the time, and across the top of her homework assignment, Naminé had drawn a row of pumpkins along the top of her paper, each with a unique facial expression. I thought the drawings were incredible—I knew nothing about art and was simply amazed with what could be done with a pencil. Even so, when I returned Naminé's assignment to her, I had to let her know.

"It's really good. The drawing, I mean. Well, the grade too," I added quickly.

"Thanks." She giggled. That did something to me. And I heard her laugh before, but that time was different. I remember my face growing warm and my ears feeling prickly and walking away without making eye contact with her for the rest of the day.

I knew immediately that I liked her.

It's silly in retrospect, but all it really came down to was her laughing at something I said. I grew more conscious of her from that day onward. Her hair fell over her right shoulder, and if it didn't fall like that at first, she always combed it over to the right. Her hands were small but her fingers were long and thin, and she held her pencil in a weird way that apparently allowed her to write in a font that looked computer-generated and draw with a delicate precision. She rubbed her neck at least four times an hour and she always curled her lip when she was following along in the readings during English.

We started talking. It was secretive too, so I only became more enamored with her. She was quiet when she was in class, but we'd always pass notes with comments or drawings and carry our conversations throughout the entire day. My conversations with her were typically the highlight of my day, as pathetic as that sounds. As it followed, the days she missed when she was sick were typically the most boring days in class.

We became friends without ever having to use our voices. We talked to each other from time to time, much like the way she talked to everyone else in the class, but the growth of our relationship was documented in the corners of our notebooks and folded loose leaf paper.

I never admitted that I found our routine to be absolutely thrilling. We were going behind everyone's back. Nobody knew that the sick girl became the new kid's best friend in a couple months.

We even cheated on tests together and invented a system to share answers. I remember one multiple choice test that we both got a perfect score on thanks to our covert methods of communication. During that test, Naminé would get my attention by noiselessly tapping her foot. I'd look at her pencil in my periphery. Two forward flicks with the eraser end, three with the pencil tip. Number twenty three. I repeated the sequence to her and slowly tapped my eraser on my desk three times. Answer C.

We never got caught.

That isn't to say we never got in trouble, though it's more accurate to say that I was the one who got in trouble. She wrote a note to me one class that made me laugh while my teacher was reading about war atrocities from a prisoner's diary. I was called out, of course, and in the heat of the moment I lied and said I wasn't paying attention and instead remembering a funny memory. I had to stand up in front of the class and apologize for being disruptive. It was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, but it was also the first time I truly didn't care. It was all because Naminé laughed. I went home that day feeling like some heroic comedian.

A month before our semester exams, Naminé started acting weirdly. Her notes weren't like before, and after a whole day of being vague and all sorts of young teen drama, she sent me the note that changed our lives.

_Do you like me?_

I wrote my answer and gave it back to her.

_Yes._

She unfolded the note carefully, almost as if she were expecting something to jump out and attack her. She opened the note just enough to see my answer, then tucked it into her folder. We didn't look at each other. I left immediately after school ended. She didn't show up the next day.

What did happen was Kairi ambushing me at the end of the day. I had never seen her so livid, and I was actually terrified throughout our entire conversation. She cornered me on the staircase and pretty much interrogated me.

"What are you trying to pull?" Kairi asked angrily.

"What are you talking about?"

"I know everything. I heard you guys all year. Nami didn't have to tell me everything, but she did tell me that you said you liked her."

I wanted nothing more than to hide at that moment. I honestly felt betrayed. Still, I couldn't help but get my hopes up. "Did she say anything?"

"I'm not telling you anything until you answer me."

"Yes, I said it," I admitted. "Can I just leave now? Please?"

"She's going to kill me if she knows about this," Kairi mumbled.

"What?"

"So you like her? You're serious?"

I hated having to tell her again. At that point I thought Naminé wanted nothing to do with me, so having to admit that I liked her was akin to twisting the knife in the wound. "For the last time, yes!"

Kairi seemed to calm down, if only just a bit. "Prove it then," she said to me. "I'm her best friend, and the last thing she needs in her life is someone with a stupid crush who'll dump her as soon as he loses interest."

"It's not like that!"

"So you'll prove it, right?"

To this day, I still don't understand what I said next or why I resolved to "prove my feelings" the way that I did. "The winter talent show at the end of the month. I'll prove it there."

"Seriously?"

"Watch me."

"You're going to prove it by _participating in a talent show_?"

"Yeah. I am."

"Of course it had to be the weird kid…" Kairi said to herself. "Whatever."

I spent the next three weeks practicing my proof-that-I-really-like-Naminé routine, not once questioning how silly the entire ordeal actually was. Naminé returned to school the week of the talent show, and it was then that I learned she was out sick the entire time. I wanted to talk to her and see if she had an answer for me, but Kairi did just about everything in her power—and she had a lot of pull in that class—to ensure that I never spoke to Naminé.

Then the talent show happened, and of course right then it dawned on me how silly it was to prove that I have feelings for a girl through song and dance.

"What the heck am I doing?" I asked Hayner and Olette, two of my friends from dance class who agreed to help me, as the act before ours was coming to an end.

"Hey, I didn't practice with you just so you could change your mind," Hayner said.

"He's right, Roxas. Besides, depending on how this goes, it could be really romantic," Olette said.

"Romantic or embarrassing. Or both."

"Probably both. It'll be embarrassing either way."

"Thanks, Hayner."

We stood on stage and set ourselves up when the music started before anyone made sure we were ready. Thrown into the fire, I sang the first lines while Hayner and Olette tried to sync up to the music.

_I met this girl down the block from me_

_Used to tell myself she was too hot for me_

It was silent when I started. Then the crowd erupted, and between one line and the next, I went from shaking on stage to performing like a teenage idol. Aside from the many missed notes and a handful of clumsier moves, I remember five things more than most:

1. My mom screaming her head off in the front row with the rest of the cheering girls and parents.

2. My dad sitting smugly in his chair with his arms crossed with everyone standing around him.

3. Hayner and Olette breaking from the routine to twerk.

4. Twerking with them.

5. Naminé jumping and cheering beside an awestruck Kairi in the third row.

Finding enough time after our performance to meet Naminé was nearly impossible, and judging from the multitude of strangers approaching us to offer their congratulations, our performance was widely considered to be a success. But I did eventually find Naminé at the end of the entire program. A blushing Kairi told me that someone was waiting for me at the playground the smaller students used at recess, and there I found Naminé, wrapped in a thick coat, waiting for me.

All was well and good until I remembered that we actually had never actually held a long conversation outside the notes we passed to each other. She sat on the stair of the playground and remained there. I stood.

"Kairi said you'd be here."

"You did a really good job up there."

We spoke at the same time, then did the same thing when we awkwardly replied to each other.

"She thought you were really cute too."

"Thanks. We worked hard."

We laughed, and again I realized that being the reason for her laughter meant the world to me.

"So Kairi liked it?" I asked.

"She did."

"Did you?"

"I was cheering."

"I saw."

She giggled. "Then why'd you ask?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Um, I like you too, Roxas."

"W-What?"

"You said in your note that you did," she said quickly, "so I just wanted to let you know that it's the same for me. If you don't anymore—"

"No! No, I do," I interrupted. "I just made a fool of myself onstage to prove it. I still really like you."

I didn't need the jacket at that point. I was probably steaming in that cold December air, and if I wasn't steaming then I was definitely sweating. Admitting to Naminé that I'd started liking her with my own voice scared me out of my mind, even if she had told me she felt the same way.

Naminé broke the silence. "You didn't have to do that. Kairi will apologize, I promise. I told her she had to."

"It's nothing, really. It was fun anyway. I'm really glad you liked it."

"Um… can you come here?"

I walked over to her. The stair she was standing on made her slightly taller than me. She looked like she wanted to say something, but her cell phone rang. The call was from her parents, asking her to meet them at the school gate. She hung up and bit her lip.

"Can we hold hands?" she asked.

I tore off my glove without thinking and offered her my hand. She took off her glove too and lightly held my hand.

The walk to the school gate was slow and deliberate. I'll never forget that quiet walk and how I wished that it'd last forever. Her hand was so small and soft, softer than I thought possible, and I wanted to hold it for the rest of the night. Our hands were sweaty and clammy despite the cold air, but none of it mattered. Up to that point, holding her hand had been nothing but a fantasy. To actually do it was groundbreaking for me. I had never held hands with a girl before. I learned that night that I liked holding girls' hands, particularly Naminé's.

"Um, I've never had a boyfriend before."

I just about ascended into heaven when I heard her call me her boyfriend. It took a lot of willpower to bring myself back down to continue the conversation. "I've never had a girlfriend either."

"I get sick a lot."

"I know."

"I'll probably be a really bad girlfriend."

"You won't."

We were close to the gate, and in an unspoken agreement we let go before her parents could see. At the time I thought we were being secretive enough about it, but the smiles on our faces when we said goodbye revealed the true story.

* * *

The train stops at Traverse Town. It's the most popular destination among the stops since it serves as the halfway point between many cities, and many of the passengers got off from the other carriages. Everyone in this particular car must have been heading to Twilight Town since no one got up to move.

A few passengers board our particular car. I assume the adults to be parents and the young girl with them to be their daughter. Her eyes are wide as she looks around the car, and I can't help but smile in seeing another person understand just how exciting it was to ride the train for the first time. Or perhaps she has been on the train before and gets that child-like wonder in her eyes every time. Either way, the sense of discovery still thrills her. I smile at her when her eyes meet mine. She waves.

The family passes by my seat. The girl walks in a way that makes the charms and key chains swing back and forth from her small backpack.

One of the charms is a pendant. It's a sunflower, and it's bigger and shinier than the rest.

* * *

Naminé loved sunflowers. She loved pictures of them, paintings too, and she loved drawing them on just about everything she could. I think she memorized a reference picture in the past because every sunflower drawing she ever made was identical down to the lines and shading of the petals and the shapes and veins of the leaves.

She also loved receiving them. At least, that's what Kairi told me. So before our first date, I made my mom drop me off at a florist's shop so I could buy some. I spent the remainder of my month's allowance on that bouquet. I had planned on using my own money to pay for the date.

That date, by the way, didn't happen until the spring when we were both fifteen and in high school. The boyfriend-girlfriend label had mostly been a title. Back then it was perfect though. Guys took interest in Naminé after they found out that someone liked her—I never understood why it worked like that—but being her boyfriend meant that I got to sit next to her at the lunch table and the bus and hold her hand during field trips.

High school, and probably puberty, changed the trajectory of our relationship. There, we were exposed to the more adult-like versions of boyfriend-girlfriend activities. The way the upperclassmen seemed to have no shame in their displays of affection were appalling at first, but it became normal after enough exposure. It wasn't just the older students either. In high school, I finally learned why Kairi was so adamant about the importance of real feelings over fleeting ones.

Kairi had a boyfriend that entire time. I think my younger self just assumed that every guy thought she was off-limits since she was the prettiest girl in class. But no, she had a boyfriend who had long been her best friend. His name was Sora. The guy was loved by everyone too. His relationship with Kairi seemed so natural, and to be honest, Naminé and I really admired them.

We had gone on a few double dates with them because it was the only kind of date Naminé's parents would allow. I think having Kairi around Naminé when they weren't there comforted them. The dates were always fun regardless, and Naminé and I got to see how another couple acted. We never outright copied them, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't pay attention to the way Sora held Kairi's hand—always laced fingers—and how he hugged her. Before I saw that, it was always a guessing game of where to place my hands.

So when Naminé's parents finally allowed us to go on a date by ourselves—they were going to drive us to the movie theater near the mall and we'd have four hours of privacy in a public place—I was ecstatic.

So with sunflowers in hand, I walked my way to Naminé's place. I called her multiple times on the way and never got an answer. Growing more insecure by the second, I ran the rest of the way. I worried that her parents changed their mind or that she changed her mind about going somewhere alone with me. I arrived at her house, my shirt wet with sweat, and bent over to gasp for air as I waited for someone to open the door.

Her mom answered. I think she knew exactly what I was thinking because she surprised me by pulling me into a hug and explaining what had happened. One sentence stood out to me above the rest.

"Naminé was hospitalized this morning."

She let me tag along to the hospital. It was less than ten minutes away, and when we arrived, Naminé's mom seemed to know exactly where she was going and what she was doing. The security guards at the entrance merely nodded at her as she flashed a visitor's pass. When we reached Naminé's hospital wing, all the employees at the nurse's station greeted Naminé's mom by first name. I think there was an unspoken conversation between the two parties. The nurses' greetings were friendly, and Naminé's mom seemed relieved by that. One smiled when she saw me with the flowers.

I wondered how many times she had gone through this process before and how many times it had to happen before it became so normal for them. I knew only one side of her sickness. To me, her weak constitution was missing school for days at a time and spending the weekends bedridden. It was feeling fatigued and resting in the nurse's office at school.

I'll never forget what it was like seeing Naminé asleep on that hospital bed with all those machines hooked up to her and the IV stuck into her veins. I remember walking up to her sleeping form and crying as I held her hand, the sunflower I had brought dropped forgotten on the floor.

I must have scared her parents. Her dad eventually placed his hand on my shoulder and told me that she was going to be fine, that it was just another case that got bad enough for hospitalization. To him it was nothing new. To me it was an entirely new world. I couldn't stop crying even after they reassured that Naminé was going to be alright with rest.

Her parents allowed me to stay with her, so that's what I did. She slept through our entire date.

I don't know what I was hoping for when she woke up, but what happened was certainly not what I even considered a possibility. As soon as Naminé realized that I was really in the room with her, she began to cry.

"Get out," she said through her tears. "Leave. Just get out."

I don't know what hurt more: hearing those words or seeing her break down in front of me, too weak to stop me from seeing her and too hoarse to scream at me.

I ran into the hallway and the tears started again. I'd always remember that event as my first true experience with pain. It was everything that I didn't want to experience, and it brought to the surface my biggest insecurities. I didn't want to be the one who made her cry. I didn't want to bring her more pain on top of everything she was already going through. And most of all, I didn't want her to hate me.

My mom had to pick me up from the hospital. I was grateful that she didn't ask questions.

I didn't hear from Naminé's family until the next evening. Her mom called me using Naminé's cell phone and told me that, if I was feeling well enough, I should visit Naminé. In one of the manlier moments of my life, I resolved to accept what I thought was an imminent break up.

I arrived at the hospital shortly after. Naminé's mom greeted me at the entrance and led me to the room again. As we were passing the nurse's station, Naminé's dad stopped me. He had been waiting there with a grocery bag filled with two pints of ice cream. He handed the bag to me.

"It's cookie dough," he said. "It's her favorite."

"I know." He seemed taken aback, and I realized I had spoken before thinking and quickly said something else. "Um, thanks."

He shook his head. "Don't thank me. You're the one who brought it."

To my surprise, her parents didn't follow me to her room. I walked in alone. Naminé was sitting up, and she was no longer connected to the IV or monitoring devices.

She looked so relieved when I appeared, and the stinging sensation in my heart deepened when she began to cry again. "I'm sorry," she said.

I think I got caught up in the moment because I started crying too. We sobbed our way through the conversation.

"It's okay," I said.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand. "I didn't want you to see me like this."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"I didn't want you to break up with me."

"What? I thought you were going to break up with me!" I laughed and wiped my nose with a paper towel.

"Why would I do that?" she asked, laughing behind her tears.

"You were the one who kicked me out!"

That was how our first real date started, and that's why it happened in a hospital room. We spent the rest of that evening watching from a tiny hospital TV and eating cookie dough ice cream. Her parents didn't enter the room until it was ten at night, which was after normal visiting hours. Our date came to an end. Naminé's parents went downstairs to talk to my mom, allowing us to say goodbye in private.

"Can I see you tomorrow?" I asked her, setting aside the empty ice cream containers.

"You can come after school," Naminé said. "Roxas, come here. There's something on your face."

"Where?" I covered my nose with my hand, hoping she wasn't talking about a stray booger.

"Just come closer. I'll get it." She waited until I moved my face closer. "It's on your eyelid. Close your eyes for a sec?"

I did. The next thing I felt was her cold lips on mine.

"See you after school tomorrow?" she asked as her fingers fell from my face.

My tongue felt numb, so I produced only a sound to let her know I heard. "Mmhmm."

My first kiss happened in a hospital room on the night before my girlfriend was discharged. It was colder and faster than I anticipated, and I did get sick the following morning, but it was well worth it. If there was a "best time being sick" moment in my life, it was that following day where Naminé was the one to visit me in my room instead.

* * *

Our relationship was different from that point onward. We grew up in that hospital room more than we ever did in our whole relationship before that night.

Seeing Naminé at her most insecure—and her seeing me in a similarly insecure state—brought us closer. I knew Naminé in a way that nobody else did, and it wasn't limited to the physical sense. It was as if Naminé reserved a part of herself for me and only me. Even Kairi never got to see the Naminé I knew. Everyone else saw even less: to them, Naminé was the sick girl who was really good at art things and was dating that guy who had really cool dances moves and was best friends with that pretty girl named Kairi.

Nobody ever knew how free-spirited she was. Nobody knew how vulgar she could be despite her dainty appearance, and nobody definitely knew how much of a tease she was.

It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. Her life became a part of mine, and with it came the struggles she had to endure since childhood. The nurses knew who I was after many trips to the hospital. Her parents confided in me and brought me into the fold of checking up on her when neither of them could. Visiting hours stopped applying to me.

Despite those trials, I fell in love with her. It happened so quickly and so slowly at the same time. It was gradual and sudden. It wasn't there, then it was. I loved her. It was the surest feeling I had ever experienced.

She became, with utmost certainty, the most important person in my life.

When we were seventeen, there was a string of months where Naminé was completely healthy. She made it to class every day, she attended every social outing with our friends, and she granted me the privilege of taking her out on a date whenever we wanted.

It was easy for us to forget that Naminé was prone to getting sick, but her parents were a different story.

One time I took Naminé home a good thirty minutes over her ten o'clock curfew. Her dad was unusually cold toward me at the door, so that date ended on a sour note. I left her house without a kiss good-bye since Naminé was pretty much dragged inside.

When I got out of the shower that night, Naminé called and told me to swing by her house at two in the morning. I didn't question it. The idea of sneaking out excited me. So when my parents were asleep and two o'clock rolled around, I climbed out of my window and drove to Naminé's house.

I sent a text when I arrived. Then I saw Naminé climb out her window. I would've been okay with it if her room wasn't on the second floor.

I sprinted to the side of her house. "Are you fucking insane?" I hissed as loudly and angrily as possible without waking the neighborhood up.

She stretched her foot toward the patio roof. "I can reach this if I—"

"Naminé!" I prepared for the worst, but she never fell. Instead she was standing on that roof, looking down at me with a smug grin on her face.

"Are you going to stop being such a pansy and help me down or what?"

She hung onto the roof with her hands and lowered herself slowly. I hugged her knees and slowed helped her to the ground.

We ran to my car snickering like we'd just completed the cleverest crime in history.

Of course neither of us had an idea of what we wanted to do or where we wanted to go. So I drove, and I listened to her rant about her overbearing parents and how much she wished they would back off and how they should trust me more since I haven't done anything to betray their trust, to which I mentioned that we made out in my room many times when she claimed to be "studying with Kairi," but she said none of that counted because they didn't have to know that.

"Well, I am whisking you away in the middle of the night right now. I'd say that's going behind your parents' back and giving them a reason not to trust me," I said.

Naminé rolled her eyes. "What, are you going to take me back?"

"Hell no."

We ordered some milkshakes at a fast food restaurant and drove around, belting out lyrics and enjoying our own little techno dance parties in the seats of my car.

I'd like to say that we found a private place to do all this, but it all took place in some random parking lot.

And we may or may not have serenaded each other with Build Me Up Buttercup by The Foundations.

I drove Naminé back to my place around five in the morning, and we snuck into my room tumbling over the windowsill and clumsily making our way to the bed.

"This is the best night of my life," Naminé said as we lay on the bed, our legs hanging off the edge.

I nodded, breathing heavily. "I think this is mine too. I mean, I haven't had a night like this ever, so it's pretty fucking fantastic."

"Shit. It is, isn't it?"

"Damn right. Why are we out of breath?"

"I don't fucking know. Why are we cursing so much?"

We laughed, and little by little, our clothes came off until we were lying there in our underwear. Naminé got hot while my hands were still exploring her and she walked away. She pulled out our cellphones, tossed mine to me, and called it. She got on the other side of the bed and faced me.

"Is this how you talk to me when we're on the phone together?" She asked, lying on her side with her phone resting on her cheek.

"Exactly." I smiled. So many late night conversations ended in that very position in that very spot on my bed.

"No wonder I can never hear you."

"I know you can. You just like hearing the sound of my voice."

She smiled. "Say something."

"I love you."

"I know."

"Damn it, Han. Put my girlfriend back on the line."

"I just made a movie reference, didn't I?"

"I will literally murder your face if you don't know."

Naminé paused. "Star Wars. It's Star Wars, isn't it?"

"Oh, is this Naminé again?"

"Yeah. Did you say something earlier? I didn't catch it."

"So you admit that you can hear me when I talk like this."

"You caught me."

"I said that I loved you. That I'm so freaking in love with you, so much that I want to punch you."

"You're so romantic." She giggled. I felt like crying.

"I know. But I really am in love with you."

"I'm not going to put out just because you keep telling me you love me."

"Well, clearly that's the case; otherwise we'd already be doing it. I love you, by the way. Should I just keep saying it or should I just stop expecting a reply?"

"Oh. I love you too."

"Cool. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Bye."

"Bye."

We hung up. Then we made out and learned how to use our hands on each other. She also slapped me in our first domestic dispute ever because I wouldn't stop tickling her even though she wouldn't stop tickling me. Fed up with the double standards of our unjust society, I left the bed, pulled out a notebook, and began writing.

"Dear Diary," I said as I wrote through fake sobs, "today Naminé hit me."

"Oh, here we go…" Naminé giggled from her place on the bed.

"She said that she wouldn't ever do it again, but I don't know if I can trust her."

"I guess you're not coming back to bed," she said from behind me.

"But she's kind of in her underwear on my bed so I think I'm going back." I read each word aloud as I wrote it and emphatically added a period. "The end."

We crossed the proverbial finish line again. All of it happened before the sun rose too.

Maybe we were feeling more rebellious than usual that night, or maybe Naminé was dealing with some helicopter parent issues, or maybe it was even because I was so drunk in love with her, but we really couldn't keep our hands off each other. We doomed ourselves when we didn't leave before six. That was when my parents woke up.

"Roxas? Kitchen. Now," my mom said on the other side of my locked bedroom door.

I had learned to fear that line growing up. It had always meant that I messed something up, forgot to do something I was told, or disrespected someone enough that my parents thought it worthy to reprimand me. I had been conditioned to feel fear on command.

That fear was exponentially higher when I heard it while my girlfriend's hand was in my underwear and my hand in hers. That was probably one of the worst possible scenarios to be in when hearing that line. The locked door kept it from being the worse. Naminé and I looked at each other and froze.

"I know you're awake, hon. Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen," she ordered again. "You too, Naminé."

Knowing that we were caught, we started to move. "We are dressed! What did you think we were doing?"

"I'm not an idiot, Roxas! I dare you to come out dressed as you are right now. I dare you."

I think we laughed because we knew we were about to die. We got dressed, met my parents in the kitchen, and got an earful.

I expected the sex talk and why it was wrong to feel each other up when my parents were sleeping in the next room. The lecture that followed was the biggest guilt trip Naminé and I had ever received.

My parents wondered why I would go behind their back when they had already given me so much freedom—and they definitely had. They also made Naminé answer for her actions and really pulled her into her parents' perspective. By the end of it, my mom was crying and telling us that we'd never understand the fear of losing a child until we had our own, and all of this happened after citing everything Naminé's parents had been through for years and why they had a right to be worried.

That just about ended our best night ever and turned it into our worst morning ever. It wasn't a good feeling making your mother cry first thing in the morning.

The punishments were handed out. I lost car privileges for a month. Naminé had to explain and apologize to her parents for sneaking out and spending the night without getting anyone's permission. On top of whatever punishments they were going to give her, my mom and dad told Naminé and me that we weren't allowed to go alone on dates for the next month.

We were then served a complete and nutritious breakfast.

* * *

The healthy streak ended at some point. There were sick weeks and healthy weeks again. Still, life went on.

I remember one particular weekend a few weeks after Naminé turned eighteen—or, as she and I knew it, the day we lost our virginity. This, of course, was long after the night we got caught. Like the teenagers we were, we didn't really stop doing what we were doing.

We simply weren't getting caught.

I had a soggy waffle that morning. It wasn't supposed to be soggy, but my mom had tried waking me up thirty minutes earlier and I said I'd get up before sleeping for an extra twenty-five.

My parents left for their weekend-long business trip after I finished, trusting me with the house. Like any eighteen-year-old, I took advantage of the vacant venue. But, rather than inviting all of my friends for an after-school house party, my only invitation went to her.

So as soon as the parental units disappeared down the road, I called Naminé over. Ever since we had found out about having a house to ourselves, we both knew how we weren't going to school and were creating our own three-day weekend.

There was so much planning involved, so many variables accounted for, so many exit strategies formulated in case of emergency that the days leading up to that weekend had passed in a blur. When the day finally came, we were more than ready. We were willing and eager.

Very eager.

I greeted Naminé just outside my door because I physically waited outside for her to arrive. I tried to wait inside, but I wanted to see her drive up.

"I expected you to greet me half-naked with a rose in your mouth," she said, her backpack slung over her shoulder.

"Please, I'm not an amateur. If anything, I'd be biting down on a sunflower."

"You always knew what did it for me."

I took her backpack. It was light, lighter than I expected, but I knew it was because her books were left at home stowed inconspicuously under her bed. Replacing them were her clothes for the weekend, which, as far as her parents knew, was for staying at Kairi's house for a "really big project due Monday."

Kairi was in on their plan though. I don't think she knew the dirty details, but she was on board with helping us. She wished us the best of luck.

We talked a little on the way to the bathroom.

"We're going to need Kairi's notes from today," I said.

"I told her to pay extra attention in class today, just for us," Naminé said.

"Are you nervous?"

"Nope. You?"

"A little."

"We don't have to do anything if you don't want," she teased.

"You're crazy if you think I'm not going through with this."

I locked the bathroom door—we didn't need to, but the extra security was somewhat comforting—and turned on the shower. I pulled off my shirt, then looked just in time to watch Naminé's skirt drop to the floor.

I had seen her naked before. Quite a few times, in fact.

But I never got over the sight of her, and I wonder if it had to do with her surprising shamelessness: that willingness to stand completely bare in front of me.

"You can't shower in those." Naminé stepped over the school uniform pooled at her feet and approached me. She tucked her fingers inside my waistband, stretched it out just enough so it wouldn't snag, and pushed it down. I took care of the rest and stepped into the shower behind her.

"How's the water?" I asked. I didn't know what else to do or say, since this was also our first shower together.

"Almost perfect." She bent down to adjust the water. I, of course, looked at her butt "Ah, there we go."

I hugged her from behind. Her skin, normally silky smooth, was slick and hot. She giggled, shifting in my arms until she faced me.

She had to feel it, feel _me_, pressing against the area just under her belly button. It was pretty obnoxious, and I actually wanted it to go away. But sometimes I really felt like it had a mind of its own, because it had a way of popping up at the worst times.

Oh, Naminé's holding my hand? Boner. Did she walk by and flip her hair and leave a trace of her scent behind? Boner. Look, she's resting her head in my lap. She looks like she's ready to nap, so let's fluff things up with a boner.

That had to be one of the worst parts of being a teenager. Not only that, but it was grossly inconsistent. Seriously, it was a rather unpleasant surprise. The male history teacher just made a movie reference? Boner. Didn't the math teacher just say the class average for the last test was a C-? Doesn't matter; boner. The biology teacher made you squirm in your seat? Hope you're ready for that boner, teenage Roxas, because it doesn't really care whether you're turned on.

Sometimes I still can't believe I got through high school without having to stand up during one of my surprise boner attacks.

Naminé shampooed my hair, and I let her work her magic. I stayed put, holding her as close as she would allow, her body pressed against mine. I watched the water build up between us until it flooded off the sides. I hoped she didn't think I was staring at her boobs.

"Time for you to rinse," she said.

"Don't you want me to wash your hair?" I asked.

"Please. You're nowhere near as good as I am."

She was absolutely right. We awkwardly rotated. She yelped.

"What's wrong?" I asked. I thought I hurt her somehow when we switched places.

She giggled. "The wall was cold."

I sighed in relief. I kept my eyes on Naminé as I washed the shampoo out of my hair. When we switched back, I learned just how cold the wall was.

In my mind and my fantasies, showering with Naminé was supposed to be some super-hot, steamy, and passionate make-out session in which we forgot that we were supposed to lose ourselves in each other until the water turned cold. Instead we just lathered each other up and bathed. Not like a couple, mind you, but two people who were more invested in cleaning themselves up than getting it on.

It was probably the unsexiest shower by a teenage couple ever.

Naminé stood in the shower while I got our towels. After I dried myself, I made room for her on the bathroom mat. She wrapped her towel around her body and stood beside me, her face contorted in way that made her look like she was fighting back a smile.

"What?" I asked.

She bent down to pick up her clothes. "You're a little excited, aren't you?"

Her eyes, of course, were not on my face, but on the towel wrapped around my waist. I turned it away from her. "I was hoping you'd just ignore that," I said.

"Kinda hard," she said. She giggled to herself. "No pun intended."

"You've been waiting to use that one all day," I said.

"You caught me." She opened the door and walked to my room. I followed closely behind and locked the door once we were inside. Naminé closed the blinds and turned to me. "You know you'll have to see a doctor if that lasts longer than four hours."

"You're… I don't even know anymore. I give up."

Naminé laughed. She traded her towel for the bed sheets and dove under my covers, strategically covering most of body. I made sure to dry my hair more before getting in on the other side. We sat there silently and stared at each other. It was the first time there wasn't a single layer between us. She was naked, I was naked, we were in bed together, and there was one obvious direction we were heading.

And there wasn't an ounce of shame to be found.

"Okay, so what's off-limits in terms of what we can say?" Naminé asked as she moved closer to me.

I turned on my side. "'Is it in yet?' is a good place to start."

"'That's it?' will never be uttered."

"'That was disappointing' is another."

"So basically anything that emasculates you." Naminé laughed. "Is that all?"

"I hope so," I said. "Unless you want to put on some music, but I don't think that's actually a thing."

"Me neither. Now kiss me."

I won't go into the dirty details of what happened for the next few minutes. It was easy to get lost in all that stimulation, but for the most part I knew what I was doing. I knew what made Naminé crazy and she knew how to control me. As vulnerable as we were, I think we reveled in it.

Eventually we reached the moment of truth: the end of our familiar routine and the beginning of an unknown one. I held myself up with my arms and looked down at her flushed face. Her chest rose and fell with each breath and she smiled up at me like she had a joke she was waiting to use.

I laughed. "I'm going to do it."

"Ew. Don't make it sound so gross." She giggled.

"I don't know how else to say it!"

"Well you could have gone with 'I'm preparing to penetrate you.'"

"Naminé."

She laughed again. "Sorry. Have fun."

"Have fun? Seriously? You make it sound like I'm the only one who's supposed to enjoy this."

"Well I don't know how to end this conversation. If you would've just continued with what we were doing, we'd be having sex right now. But no, let's bring it to my attention that you're about to stab me with your penis."

I fell on top of her in a laughing heap. Neither of us wanted to admit that we needed to stop there because we were too nervous to continue, but I think we both knew that we were stalling. It wasn't a matter of putting sex off entirely: we just wanted a few minutes to gather our bearings. After laughing it out—it was only a few minutes—I was all over her again and she was pushing me over the edge. One moment we were kissing, and the next we were eagerly trying to figure everything out.

It was then that I learned I had no idea what I was doing.

"No, that's not it," Naminé pushed me away again.

I was growing a little frustrated at that point. There I was, a horny eighteen-year-old boy with his willing girlfriend underneath him, and I couldn't figure out how to have sex with her. Instead I was hurting her, pushing at places where I didn't belong.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," I admitted angrily. I felt everything boiling over until Naminé sat up and kissed my forehead. My anger simmered back and I remembered that sex was supposed to be fun.

"At least now I know you weren't lying when you told me that I was the first girl you've ever been with," she said gently.

It was an obvious attempt at flattery. She had always joked that I was too fantastic of a lover to not have any experience despite my insistence. Fortunately, it worked. I calmed down, and we kept trying.

"I thought you were researching this stuff while I got on birth control," Naminé joked.

"Okay, first of all, I ended up getting distracted every time." Considering the fact that my "research" was copious amounts of pornography, this was the truth. "Second, you've had a vagina your entire life. How do you not know where penises go? I know exactly what I'm supposed to do with mine!"

"You say that like I've stuck a bunch of things up there before." Naminé pushed me onto my back, switching our positions.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking control of this situation like always." She stuck her tongue out. "No, I just heard it might be easier to do it this way."

And moments after that, we lost our virginity to each other.

It was so easy. There was no pain, no struggling, and no more awkward conversations to stall the inevitable.

"Oh. _Oh._" Naminé shuddered, her hands gripping my shoulders tightly. "That's definitely it."

I groaned, thinking I was going to die right then and there. "Yeah." My voice shook. I didn't say anything else. I looked down, and all I could think was that it was actually happening. And holy shit, I was actually having sex with Naminé.

We managed to turn over. There was a lot of fumbling around and strange sounds, but we really didn't pay attention to that as much as we did to each other.

Our first time ended quickly after it began.

I was spent. Naminé was breathing slowly beneath me, her eyes closed in satisfaction. She sighed when I pulled away.

I hadn't lasted long at all, but Naminé didn't mention it. We lay there naked, side by side, whispering to each other and trading blissful kisses. The covers were bunched at our feet, tossed aside in favor of the cooler air.

"I love you," I said.

"I love you too," she said.

I was so content there. As far as first times went, that was probably as good as it got. "That might have been the best single minute of my life."

She laughed.

I thought we were going to spend the next half hour snuggling, but Naminé jumped up from the bed shrieking.

Apparently all those movies where the characters had sex and slept immediately after were gross as hell—they had to have slept with all the fluids that came out afterward.

"It comes out?!" Naminé asked, grabbing a towel to clean the wet trail running down her leg.

"I guess it had to go somewhere," I said. I couldn't help but laugh at her as she swore to never have sex with me again if it meant that she had to deal with all the gross fluids afterward.

I don't know why I had assumed that everything would end cleanly and stay put. Either way, we cleaned up, got a good laugh out of it once the panic subsided, and snuggled until we were ready to go again.

We spent that entire weekend neglecting all our other responsibilities. We did it over and over again, trying new positions and different techniques until we confirmed the new ways we could drive each other crazy. We literally only stopped for food, using the bathroom, and cleaning ourselves up. In hindsight it was extremely disgusting and somewhat barbaric. But it was the only time I ever ate fast food with my girlfriend while we were naked in bed. Stuff like that didn't happen often.

That weekend was just another turning point in our relationship. Our first time became the first of many other times.

There was a certain kind of thrill in planning to meet up when our parents weren't around and trying to stay quiet enough when we were doing it when we weren't supposed to.

It was just another way of spending time with each other. Sometimes it was the excuse.

It goes without saying that becoming closer made it all the harder when everything had to end.

* * *

"Now arriving at Twilight Town."

The announcement rings in the train car as we pull into the station. I gather my belongings and step off the train.

The sun hangs low in the sky and casts and orange glow from the west, painting the streets with long shadows and warm colors. I make my way out of the station and stare at the long line of taxis along the curb. One looks cleaner than the rest. I get in.

"Where are you heading?" The driver asks after exchanging greetings.

"Twilight Town Cemetery, please."

The driver nods. As the station disappears behind me, I call my parents and tell them that my train won't be arriving for another hour.

* * *

Life continued. Then, it reached its end.

It was on her nineteenth birthday. We had spent a few weeks planning a getaway for the weekend to celebrate. Destiny Islands was calling our name, and we planned every day down to the hour. We were going to snorkeling, attend one of the local blitzball games, and watch the sunrise on the beach. We were going to drive to the other side of the island and eat dinner on the famous Destiny Boardwalk, share a paopu fruit, and watch the sunset on the opposite beach. Instead, she ended up in a hospital bed and I in the chair next to her.

She had gotten sick a week before her birthday. One day she had been perfectly healthy, and the next she was struggling to breathe. She was hospitalized immediately, but her conditioned worsened. She had been hospitalized before for her illnesses, but this one seemed more serious than the others. In the past, Naminé had always recovered within a week. She had always been able to regain her strength and talk after a few days. This time, she wasn't waking up as she usually did.

The possibility that I'd actually lose her became all too real for me.

I wanted to stay with her throughout the entire ordeal. She slept most of the time, but I wanted to make sure I'd be there when she woke up. I stayed past normal visiting hours and sleep there when I could. I left only when her parents forced me out, only to come back the next afternoon after school.

She slipped in and out of consciousness. I hated my helplessness. I couldn't stand how I useless I was, how powerless I was when I wanted her to get better. She looked so weak, so tired, so fed up with having to fight for every breath, and I couldn't do anything to make it easier for her.

One afternoon she woke just enough to realize I was there. I knew when her hand tightened around mine, and I looked up from the book I had been reading for class to see her foggy blue eyes staring back at me.

"Roxas," she whispered, her voice a hoarse croak.

I made sure she didn't move. I could tell she was fighting to stay awake.

"Go back to sleep. You need to rest." I gently pressed her down.

"I'm tired. I'm so tired." She blinked slowly.

I ran my hand over her hair. "That's why you should sleep. Sleep until you get better, Naminé."

"I'm sorry," she said. A tear streaked down her face. "I'm sorry, Roxas."

Seeing her like that struck me. I wanted her to laugh. I wanted to make her smile. I wanted to take her pain away, and I wanted to make everything better. I just didn't know how. "Don't—why are you apologizing?"

"Our vacation."

I laughed. I cried too, but I laughed harder. "Do you think I care about that right now?"

"I'm sorry, Roxas." Another tear. I wiped it away with my thumb.

I didn't understand what was going on or why she was so bothered. I assumed that in her delirium, she was overly emotional over something relatively insignificant. I tried my best to comfort her, my own eyes brimming with tears. "Please don't cry, Naminé. It's not a big deal."

"You'll have to go without me. I'm sorry."

"I won't. We'll go when you get better. I promise I'm not mad. Just please go to sleep." I kissed her hand, returning her strong grip. "I love you, Nam. I'll be here when you wake up."

She slipped back into sleep. Even today, I still don't know if she heard me.

Naminé died the next day. Her weak immune system finally gave out, and she had passed in the middle of the night. I wasn't there when it happened. I don't know if that made it better or worse. But when her parents called me early in the morning, unable to talk through the pain of losing their daughter, I broke down and cried with them.

Naminé was gone. The woman I had spent much of my life loving had passed away.

I wished at the time that I'd become numb to it all. Not feeling anything had to have been better than feeling abandoned and left behind. I had been useless. Helpless. Inadequate. Why didn't I do anything to help? Why couldn't I help? Why did she have to go when she did nothing to deserve death?

I thought about it. In my bedroom, hours after finding out that Naminé was gone, I thought about ending everything. It hurt. It hurt so much, and I swear that there was a hole in my chest that morning. The doctors say that her death was painless, but how was that possible? I had talked with her the day before. I had seen each labored breath, her face scrunched in pain, the tears falling from her eyes. Was that what I was feeling? I couldn't make sense of the pain. I remember looking down at my chest, wondering where the pain was coming from and why it hurt. But nothing was visible. Underneath my normal exterior was a void that could no longer be filled.

I remember thinking that anything was better than that hole in my chest. I wanted to end it, end it as quickly possible, even if it meant dying.

I couldn't take it. I didn't want to believe that I'd spend the rest of my life without ever seeing her smile again. I didn't want to live if it meant that I couldn't wake up beside her and see her wearing one of my shirts and her hair in a tangled mess. I didn't want to continue living if it meant that I would never hear voice calling my name again, her scent filling me with comfort, her hands lightly squeezing mine. I didn't want anything to do with a world without Naminé.

I don't know what brought me down or why I didn't go through with it. I remember hating myself for wanting to live when I was convinced that I didn't want to.

* * *

I saw Naminé's body at the wake.

It wasn't her. It was an empty body. It was a lifeless shell, and everything I had loved about her had left when she passed away.

* * *

I didn't cry at the funeral. The numbness I had been yearning for had finally swept over me.

I didn't cry when I helped her family members carry her coffin down the aisle during the church service.

I didn't cry when I listened to the Kairi's heartbreaking eulogy.

I didn't cry when we placed the flowers on her coffin when we all said our final goodbyes.

I didn't cry when we buried her in the ground.

* * *

Days after her funeral, I felt the urge to see her. Reality reminded me just before I found her name among my text messages that she had died.

It seemed like she had passed so long ago. I had to scroll down a long list of conversations from both my contacts and unknown numbers who offered their condolences and thoughts and prayers. I finally found our conversation.

The last message she ever sent to me was about the vacation we were planning. We had decided earlier in the message that we were going to meet at a coffee shop to finalize the plans.

I'll see you there, the message said.

I would've given anything at that time to go back and relive those moments with her. I still remember how her eyes lit up when I told her we could realistically watch the sun rise over one coast and drive to the other side to watch it set on the other. I remember how she smiled when she suggested we spend an entire day inside a hotel room or, if were daring enough, to find a secluded place under the stars and fulfill a fantasy.

In what was probably an attempt to relive and remember Naminé, I called her parents and asked if I could come over. When I arrived, they gave me permission to go into her room after I had asked.

It was the first time I entered since she passed.

Everything was the same. I walked around her room, tracing a path in the carpet that Naminé would always take when she was thinking about her next project: a walk up one side of the bed, across the foot, and walk down the other.

The room still smelled like her. I sat on her bed and buried my face in one of the pillows. I closed my eyes, and it was almost like she was there again. But the warmth of her skin was missing, and so was the sound of her breathing. When I opened my eyes, she wasn't staring back at me.

She had left me alone, I realized. And when my eyes began to tear up, I noticed the stack of sketchbooks and the canvases leaning against the wall in the corner of her room. They'd been left behind too.

I don't know why that was the trigger, but I finally cried. I sobbed into that pillow like it was the only thing that could comfort me. I hugged it tightly, breathing in her scent, wanting so badly to feel her arms wrapped around my shoulders to comfort me and let me know she was there. Naminé was gone, and I think that was the moment that I realized that she left more than her boyfriend behind. In her room were a number of projects that would never be completed. There were illustrations that would never be colored, words that would never be read, paints that would never be opened by her hand.

I wished then that Naminé were a writer instead. Maybe she would have left me letters or something behind so I could hear from her one last time.

I laughed to myself. That was far too romantic for her.

There were no letters or recordings or messages left behind. Naminé had died before she was ready. She died before her story was supposed to end. We had written a future together only to leave on a cliffhanger.

I never returned to her room after that day. I came to terms with her death there: she was gone, and there was nothing I could do about it. She had taught me so many things about love and sadness and happiness and vulnerability. She left me with an understanding of what it meant to be in love, what it meant to truly miss someone, and what it meant to really know her.

I gave my heart to her. In return, she left me with her love.

I left that tear-stained pillow in her room. I didn't look back.

* * *

Her gravestone is a short walk from the road that runs through the cemetery. It's an ordinary-looking stone: gray granite, rectangular, and waist-high. Her name is engraved in large letters, and the years of her life are written underneath it. There are no flowers on her grave.

It is the first time since her burial that I've visited.

"It's been a while," I say. The stone is cold under my touch. "I'll stop by again before I leave. I'll find you some sunflowers. I don't know where, but I'll find them."

I begin to choke on my words and quickly wipe away the tears with my wrist.

I think back to our last conversation together. It didn't make sense then, but now it's clear. Her words seem more relevant today than ever before, and I understand why she said what she did.

Part of me wants to tell her that she shouldn't have apologized, to tell her that I'm not mad at her for having to go. But I think she knew that. In her final moments of lucidity, she was thinking of me. That was all the closure we needed.

"Nam, thank you for waking up for me. It really meant—it really means a lot to me." I sniffled. "I… I'm home now. I'll come see you every day when I'm here. And when I leave, I'll do just what you told me to do and keep at it. I just wanted you to know that I'm okay now."

I kneel down and kiss the cold stone, wiping the last of my tears with my sleeve.

"I miss you, Naminé. I know that I don't need to remind you, but I love you very much."

On the way back to the cab, I take my time and walk slowly. The driver has a solemn smile on his face and asks if I want to head back to the station. He knows my parents are picking me up there. I nod and thank him for waiting.

I turn around and watch her gravestone disappear in the distance.

Tomorrow I will bring her sunflowers. It will be the last anniversary I celebrate with her, and I will promise to do what she asked and go on without her.

* * *

**Author**: That's all. Hope you enjoyed, and good luck matching the author with the story.


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